


In My Mind

by Briana_Hale



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Avengers Family, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Gen, Hurt Wanda Maximoff, Hurt/Comfort, Hydra (Marvel), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Steve Rogers, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Sacrifice, Serious Injuries, Team as Family, Torture, scarletamerica - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-11-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:09:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26095396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Briana_Hale/pseuds/Briana_Hale
Summary: In front of them was a cell nearly identical to the one that Wanda had spent nearly four years in, to the one her brother had spent the same amount of time in. The stark white walls had the dishonest effect of making the pitifully small cell look a little bigger. A thin, uncomfortable steel cot; an exposed toilet. It all looked exactly the same except the girl laying inside was not a rail-thin 18-year-old Wanda Maximoff; instead, it was a child.
Relationships: Scarlet Witch/Captain America, Wanda Maximoff & Avengers Team, Wanda Maximoff & Original Child Character, Wanda Maximoff & Steve Rogers, Wanda Maximoff/Steve Rogers, steve rogers & original child character
Comments: 84
Kudos: 91





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place a few months after Avengers: Age of Ultron. In the MCU canon Steve should be about 29 at this point but, if I'm wrong, he's still 29 in this story. I'm not entirely sure how old Wanda is supposed to be, I feel like it changed from Ultron to Civil War so, in my head-canon, Wanda and Pietro were brought into Hydra at the age of 19 and then experimented on for roughly 4 years, meaning that Wanda is about 23 at this point.
> 
> Bruce Banner never flew off to space either.
> 
> The "original child character" is loosely based off of the character Mary Adler from Chris Evans' movie "Gifted", but only conceptually. In terms of characterization, I think they're pretty different.
> 
> I don't speak French, but MCU Steve Rogers canonically speaks the language so I thought I would use it. As a preface: I'm using Google translate which I know is crappy, but I'm hoping that the fact that I'm not translating anything too long means it won't be too bad. Feel free to correct whatever I've translated incorrectly.
> 
> I also tend to reference interviews when I write, so shout it out if you find one of them.

“Ay! My quinoa! I specifically told everyone not to touch my damn quinoa!” Sam hollered from the kitchen. Steve turned from the television as his friend entered the shared living space in the building’s common floor. “Who took my food? Cough it up.” He held his hand out expectantly and Steve blinked at the thought of someone regurgitating a plate of Sam’s quinoa back into his hand. His nose wrinkled.

“Wilson, I thought we established that nobody wants your quinoa.” Natasha replied without looking up from her book.

“I don’t care what we established, Romanoff. Yesterday: quinoa in the fridge, today: no quinoa, ergo one of you ate it.” He glared accusingly at each of them.

“Mr. Wilson,” intoned Vision, “I don’t believe that any of the team has taken your quinoa. If you recall, Mr. Stark’s refrigeration technology is programmed to dispose of any food items that may have expired or gone bad.”

Clint guffawed from his chair and Steve couldn’t suppress his chuckle as Sam bristled. “My quinoa-”

“-has been in the fridge for almost a week, Sam.” The captain rose from his seat and clapped his friend on the back. He reached into his jean pocket as it vibrated with a notification. “Trust me, there’d be no other reason for any of us to turn down your cooking.”

Steve walked out of the room to the sounds of a brewing argument and smiled at the easy banter. The atmosphere around his team was similar in some ways to how it had been with the Howlies, but very different in other ways. The camaraderie and trust was the same as always -- you couldn’t be a functioning team without it, but Steve had to admit that the only thing the Howlies had to joke about was death or dying. Since the Avengers weren’t always in an active war situation, they tended to have other things to talk about. Like quinoa.

Steve removed the small, sleek cell phone that Tony had given him from his pocket and glanced at the screen. Seeing that it was a message from Hill, he slowed his steps and read its contents carefully. 

When he re-entered the living room, they were still going at it.

“No, I’m not- I didn’t say anything about your bok choi, Wilson! We’re just saying-” Clint’s exasperated retort was halted by Cap’s return. The room recognized his game face and immediately quieted.

“Suit up,” he ordered, “we have a mission. I’ll explain more on the quinjet.” Steve trusted his team to move with urgency and didn’t look back to make sure they were hustling. Instead, he took a detour on his elevator ride to the equipment floor (the armoury, whatever) in order to grab the most important part of their mission. 

When the elevator doors slid open, Steve stepped out onto the floor and walked past the door to his room and down the hall. He knocked softly on the door and waited for the soft “come in” that greeted him.

Wanda sat cross-legged on her bed as she thumbed through a book. Steve leaned against the doorframe and allowed a fond smile at the enthralled expression on Wanda’s face as she flipped another page. It wasn’t often that the young woman appeared happy or even relaxed. Although, he supposed that could also be attributed to how rarely the team saw her outside of training. Steve could count on one hand the amount of times Wanda had joined them on the common floor and, when she did, she sat silently away from the rest of them, only speaking when spoken to. 

Steve had caught her smiling once, actually. Clint (the only one of them that had managed to really connect to Wanda) had told an especially bad dad-joke and her lips had curled up in an amused grin but, as soon as she felt his eyes on her, the young woman sank back into her neutral expression. The captain had felt inordinately sad when her smile was gone.

When she finally looked up long enough to catch sight of who was at the door, a thread of scarlet appeared at her nightstand and flicked a hairpin into the crease of her book.

“Captain,” the witch greeted as she stood and Steve’s stomach twisted unpleasantly at how quickly her excited expression turned serious, “do we have a mission?”

The captain’s lips twitched down at her immediate conclusion but chose to let it slide in favor of correcting something else. “It’s just Steve, Wanda.” He’d been trying to get her to call him by his name rather than title ever since she had returned from Barton's farm following Ultron but, evidently, was not having much luck. “But, yes, we have a mission and I need you on this one.”

Wanda nodded stone-faced and grabbed her red leather jacket as she followed him out wordlessly. The two remained silent all the way to the quinjet where the others were waiting. Once everyone was geared up, they set off toward the coordinates Hill had sent Steve which would see them landing on some remote island off the west coast of the U.S.

When they were cruising, Clint set the quinjet to autopilot and joined the rest of the team in the back, leaning up against the wall next to Wanda, who relaxed minutely in his presence. They all looked to Steve in expectation.

The captain addressed the room. “S.H.I.E.L.D. was clearing out some remaining Hydra bases when their scans picked up some major energy readings from this one in particular. Now, normally, this wouldn’t be our job, but the readings are nearly identical to the ones that Wanda puts out.” 

The young woman stiffened and shrank back at the sound of her name, as if she was being accused of something and Steve forced himself to remain focused when he really wanted to ask why. “Further scans showed a mass amount of agents on the base and the higher ups have concluded that Hydra is hiding an important asset on the base. It's our priority to figure out what it is.” 

Nods all around told him that he was understood, but Steve let his eyes linger longer on the quiet witch who sat away from the rest of the team as they dissolved into side conversations. Wanda looked up when his footsteps grew nearer. “I know you’ve been on missions with us, Wanda, but it’s never been this close to you before. Are you going to be alright?”

She nodded immediately. “I won’t get in the way, Captain, I’ll be ready.”

This time, Steve let his dismay show on his face. “No, Wanda, I’m not worried about you getting in the way. I want to know if you’ll be alright.”

It hurt him, really, to see how perplexed Wanda was by his concern and Steve found himself wondering if anyone (aside from Pietro, of course) had ever looked after her. When it became clear that she wouldn’t answer him, Steve sighed in resignation and left to check how far they were from the site.

He wondered if her reaction to the question was a result of her time at Hydra or of who was asking. Neither circumstance was one that Steve wanted to be true, and yet, both seemed very plausible. Though it hurt him to, Steve could imagine Wanda being held by Hydra after their experiments and it being drilled into her that she was a weapon, their weapon, and nothing more. Her emotions, fears, feelings were all irrelevant to the situation and the only thing that determined her worth was if she could carry out their orders. Steve contemplated if it was worse if Wanda simply couldn’t believe that he (that they) cared about her.

At five minutes out, Steve signaled the team who readied themselves and their gear while he relayed the plan of attack. “Widow and Tony, wipe the servers and pull whatever you can; Sam and Vision are our eyes in the sky; Rhodes and Clint take care of whoever gets out; Wanda, on me -- we’re heading to find the source of energy.”

When the quinjet’s rear door lowered, Wanda was nearly overwhelmed by the wave of energy that overtook her. She stumbled back in surprise. Since Pietro, she had not encountered another source of power similar to hers and was unused to feeling it bearing against her again. It was like it had been with her brother -- not physically pressing on her, but like the energy was brushing up against the air around her.

Steve’s sure hands stopped her backward movement and brought her out of her head. “There is definitely an energy source here. Similar to our- to mine, but not exactly the same.” Wanda knew they had all heard her blunder but, aside from a quick glance, none chose to acknowledge it and she was grateful. “I can find it.” She nodded to Steve’s unspoken question.

“Then let’s go.” The captain ordered resolutely and stepped out onto the beach. The island was smaller than they had anticipated and each of them could see from one side of it to the other. Under the cover of the dark, warm night and whatever cloaking technology Stark had afforded them, half the team located the entrance to the underground bunker and slipped inside.

Immediately, Wanda seized three agents with her scarlet tendrils and incapacitated them as Steve flung his shield somewhere to her left. The young witch turned in a circle to take in the situation, grabbing hold of two men on their way to Natasha and forcing them out the door so that the others could deal with them. Wanda yanked open a heavy door and continued to follow the pull of the energy with Steve trailing closely behind her. 

On the other side, the duo could hear the clamor of a troop of agents rushing down the long hall toward them. Steve seized her arm and tugged her into a crouching position beside him in an inlet of the hall. He stalled them for twenty seconds--she counted--and then threw his shield at a precise angle. The disc ricocheted rapidly in the narrow hall and took out a good six agents before Wanda coiled her scarlet around it and redirected it back to the captain.

Steve caught it and immediately sent it back out as the rain of gunfire started up. Wanda pulled up a veil in front of her to deflect the bullets and stepped out into the open to do her work. She ripped a gun from the hands of one of the soldiers and snapped it into two useless pieces before catapulting them into an enemy’s face. As he was knocked to the ground, she hefted him up with her scarlet coils and bowled down a line of men with her squirming projectile.

Wanda turned for only a millisecond to push back a group of soldiers, but caught sight of a lithe agent in the rafters, aiming a gun in Steve’s direction, who was locked in a battle with two of their foes. He pulled the trigger and she instinctively threw up a veil around the captain to protect him. In her moment of distraction, however, her own shield flickered.

It was for less than a second and barely perceptible to those in the fight, but the young witch was vulnerable long enough for a single bullet to sneak past the scarlet and embed itself below her right hip. Wanda cried out and stumbled to the ground, but flexed her long fingers to keep up the shields around both her and Steve.

“Wanda!” The captain shouted for her but the cry was muffled as her back arched and the witch released a burst of scarlet that knocked out every agent in the hall. Exhausted, the red tendrils swimming in the air dissipated as Steve helped her up.

“Are you alright?” He questioned concernedly, placing a gentle hand on her leg to examine the wound. The heat of his palm burned through to her skin in a way that made her want to simultaneously push him away and pull him closer to her. But she bit the inside of her cheek and delivered a short nod. 

Meeting her eyes, Steve shot her an incredulous look, but Wanda steeled her gaze and nodded resolutely. Nonetheless, Steve walked slightly ahead of her, his shield up to defend her as they navigated the bunker. 

“Can you just do that every time?” He suggested, looking around at their incapacitated enemies. It wasn’t a gory scene aside from the few agents that they had taken out before she was shot. It looked simply as if a good dozen and a half of the men had suddenly decided, all together, to take a nap where they stood.

Swallowing hard, Wanda stumbled momentarily and concentrated a ball of energy at her hip so the wound would stop bleeding. She shook her head to his question, though. “When I’m using my powers, I have to make the conscious decision to push it from the inside, out. But when I’m wounded, the energy in my blood is exposed and I can use it more freely without the exhaustion of forcing it out. It’s like a burst of energy but it drains me quickly as wounds do to most people.”

_“Cap, scans of the building say all of our bad guys are either sleeping or in timeout, but it looks like they’re all lower-level meatheads -- no scientists or high-level agents.”_

At the sound of the report, Steve visibly relaxed but, to his right, he could still feel the tension coming off Wanda in waves. She had been on high alert from the moment they landed on the beach. It wasn’t that she was ever lax or blasé about their responsibilities, but today it was as if she was constantly braced for impact. 

Steve touched the side of his helmet. “Thanks, Tony.” With a glance to the woman next to him, the pair continued down the hall.

Wanda’s eyes illuminated in a muted red as she tracked the source of power that they were looking for and Steve forced himself not to keep glancing at her behind him. _I trust her_. As the thought passed his brain, Wanda faltered behind him. He turned in alarm at her stuttering steps and caught the moment her eyes fell from a humming red to her ethereal green. The witch gasped as blood gushed forth from her leg without the focus of her magic there.

“Shit, Wanda!” Steve exclaimed as he caught her around the waist. He leaned her back against his chest and reached down to stem the flow of blood on her thigh. She cried out at the pressure of his fingers and he winced. “Are you-”

But she was shaking. Wanda pushed back against him and his fingers fell away as she stumbled a couple of feet away. “I’m fine, I’m fine.” She breathed rapidly, but the look in her eyes was haunted and so agonized that Steve’s heart clenched.

But he shook his head. “Wanda, let me help-”

“No! No, Captain, please,” her eyes were so full of regret, “don’t help me.”

Steve’s lips were parted in affliction as she turned briskly and continued down the hall. He started after her and, from then on, kept pace next to her with his eyes on what lay before them. It was difficult not to notice, though, the way that she very carefully kept her eyes away from him.

He followed her through doors, down flights of stairs, and along hallways until she stalled them in front of a door.

“It’s coming from behind this door.” She stated. Steve stepped forward and examined the entrance. It was heavily enforced and the retinal scanner beside it told him that whatever, whoever, laid behind that door was important and, more than likely, dangerous.

Pushing gently against the door, he drew his brow in contemplation. “I don’t think I can- oh.” The captain stepped back as red mist seeped into the cracks of the door and triggered a series of clicks and groans from the machinery. Wanda withdrew the tendrils and then nodded at him.

Steve walked forward once more and bore against the door which accepted his weight and creaked open. When the opening was large enough, Steve slipped through and Wanda followed hesitantly after him. 

“My God.” The Captain mumbled and Wanda immediately found the source of his distress and the source of the energy.

In front of them was a cell nearly identical to the one that Wanda had spent nearly four years in, to the one her brother had spent the same amount of time in. The stark white walls had the dishonest effect of making the pitifully small cell look a little bigger. A thin, uncomfortable steel cot; an exposed toilet. It all looked exactly the same except the girl laying inside was not a rail-thin 18-year-old Wanda Maximoff; instead, it was a child.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter is up! I hope you guys enjoy it :) Forgot to mention before but this is unbeta'd so there may be some mistakes (sad).

Wanda’s green eyes widened in horror as she realized that the energy was emanating from _a child_. Meaning that Hydra had experimented on a _child_. She clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes shut, as she recalled, painfully, the agonizing effects of the experiments and the days that she wished the scepter would kill her just as it did all of her and Pietro’s (friends?) cellmates. She remembered the way her veins burned and her skin felt as if it was peeling off her bones; the sheer _rage_ that flooded through her was astounding when she imagined this child being put through that.

Then, as the thoughts passed her brain, Wanda herself almost crumbled in shame as she recalled that she had once been part of this organization, had once supported it.

Steve was stock still as he stared into the white cell. The little girl’s blonde hair obscured her face as she laid on the floor; sleeping, perhaps. His brain was simultaneously spinning and stalling as he began to understand what he was seeing. His entire body felt as if it was shuddering with every breath although Wanda would tell you that he was eerily still.

His whole life, Hydra was the picture of evil in his mind -- Nazis, but somehow worse. He had been fighting them for what seemed like forever -- back in the forties and again only a year ago. It seemed that every time Steve thought he had seen the world at its worst, it proved him wrong. Steve had seen a lot of awful things, not the least of which was his brainwashed best friend and a red-faced lunatic with a god-complex.

_But a child?_

Steve took a weak step forward. Then another. And another. And another until his fingers were pressed to the glass.

“She can’t see you.” He whipped around to face the young woman who he had almost forgotten was with him. Her eyes were glassy and lost as she gazed at the girl behind the window. “It’s one way. She can’t see anything, can’t hear anything, not even her brother.”

Steve’s eyes flew to her face instinctively in surprise and Wanda’s expression crumpled at her slip. It was only for a moment, though, and then she schooled her expression into a neutrality that would have fooled him if her eyes were not swimming in pain. Wanda strode up to the control panel she knew to be next to the door. Steve followed her and watched as a ball of red light emerged from between her fingers. Wanda’s elegant flourishes coaxed the energy to grow and then settle into the palm of her right hand. Turning over her hand, she forcefully pressed the ball into the control panel to deactivate the locks and whatever surprises hid in the cell’s white walls. God knew Wanda’s cell had had plenty.

When the cell door chirped, the little girl’s head shot up and visceral fear flashed in her blue eyes. Steve, in his line of work, had seen many grown men and women with the same look in their eyes. It was a look borne of experience, of pain that no longer was surprising, but still terrifying. It looked so utterly wrong on her small face and the super-soldier’s entire body ached at the thought of how it came to rest there.

Wanda watched as the captain took a hesitant step toward the door. Inside the cell, the little girl scrambled underneath the cot despite being unable to see them outside. It didn’t matter; she knew that the door opening never meant anything good for her. 

Steve’s hand met the glass of the door and the movement caused it to swing ever so slightly before coming back. For the barest of moments, a clear path was established between Wanda’s mind and the terrified thoughts of the little girl.

Curled up beneath the pitiful bed in her cell, the girl was silent and still as an animal evading a predator but, in her mind, she was practically screaming.

After Ultron and what she was brought to do to people, Wanda promised herself that she would never pry into the minds of others again without their permission (not that she ever thought she’d get it). It bereaved her to imagine herself hurting others once more, especially since she could still see the effects of her actions around her.

Her now teammates hadn’t yet recovered completely from the young witch’s mental assault. They hid it well, of course, but Wanda knew the memories plagued them still the same way she could hear the girl’s mind now.

She kept true to her promise, of course -- Wanda never reached into the minds of others in order to see or hear things. Sometimes, however, others’ minds would reach hers instead. Not on purpose, no, but thinking was a lot like speaking, a lot like the expressions on a person’s face.

It was a little like walking down the street and passing by someone who is having an argument. You can’t help but hear what they’re saying because they’re shouting, and can’t help but know what they’re feeling because they’re expressing it on their face, in their tone. 

So when Natasha wakes in the middle of the night from her nightmares about the Red Room, Wanda shakes with her in her own bed down the hall as all of the Black Widow’s fear and pain bombards her. When, earlier, Steve had forced himself to remember that he trusted her (he _trusted her?_ ), the thought practically bowled Wanda down because it came at her so forcefully. And, when the little girl’s mind swirled with memories and fear and anticipation, the witch nearly drowned in the emotions.

It didn’t hinder her enough, though, to keep Wanda from grabbing Steve by the elbow as he made to enter the cell. Though in the mind languages posed no barrier to Wanda, she had still been afforded with the knowledge of what the girl spoke. “Captain,” she stalled, her voice low, “she speaks French.” He breathed in slowly, nodding, and then slowly entered through the door of the cell.

Wanda could feel the girl’s panic as the door swung inward and caught the way her body tensed beneath the bed as Steve’s light steps approached. But the confusion was there too, and the witch only caught snippets of the thoughts that whizzed around her head. _Shoes...black laces...doctor… different._ Wanda couldn’t make sense of them before the words dissolved into an all-encompassing apprehension as Steve knelt before the bed. 

“C'est d'accord.” _It’s alright._ The tones rolled off Steve’s tongue in his soft and gentle voice. “Je ne vais pas te blesser.” _I’m not going to hurt you._

Wanda could feel even herself softening at the sound of the captain’s assurances. She thought back to her own time under Hydra’s thumb; about the days where she regretted or doubted her decision to subject herself to their endless experiments, about the days she writhed on the floor as her magic attempted to eat away at her from the inside. Wanda pondered what her own reaction would have been if someone like Steve had come in and spoke to her in such a voice, promising her reprieve from the pain. Would she have gone with him? Maybe let go of her adolescent hate and saved the world all the pain she would go on to cause?

Wanda would never know what her reaction would have been, if she could’ve been stopped from becoming a monster, but she _could_ save this little girl from the years of pain she went through. Apprehension bled from the little girl in droves. The emotion was so strong that it took effort for Wanda to fend off its effects. Even though the anxiety was coming from the child in the cell, the young woman’s own heartbeat sped up and she could feel paranoia seeping into her pores as her mind absorbed the emotions like a masochistic sponge.

Beneath it, however, there was something sweeter, sadder. The gentle tones and assurances from Steve’s mouth inspired a deeper sentiment to float to the surface of the girl’s mind. It felt like an emptiness around Wanda’s shoulders, a coldness in her bones, and an ache in her chest. Wanda nearly sighed at the familiarity with which she greeted the sensation as she pulled the string from its tangle in the girl’s mind. This was the thread that seemed to be present in many of the worst times in Wanda’s life: it had bound her wrists when her parents had died and left her and Pietro without anybody to care for them; it had coiled in her stomach when the twins had lived on the street, surviving off of the trash bins behind buildings; and it had nearly hanged her by the neck after Pietro left her alone in the world.

Yes, Wanda knew longing _very_ well. At this point, it had proved to be just about the only constant in her life.

“Je ne vais pas te blesser.” _I’m not going to hurt you._ Steve repeated in his warm whisper. Crouching lower, he laid down his hand, palm up, just under the edge of the cot. He didn’t reach for her, didn’t demand her compliance, only offered his hand for her to take. “Nous sommes là pour vous aider.” _We’re here to help you._ And then he waited.

Wanda could feel the war that the young child waged within herself, her fear embattled in a volatile clash with her yearning. The push and pull was dizzying in more ways than one for the telepath who knew that a child this young should not have to weigh her survival against her desires. But, at the same time, the young girl’s mind felt...strange. Her emotions felt unbalanced in a way. 

The longing and the want? _That_ belonged to a child -- it was messy and primal, desperate and young. But, the fear that fought back against it wasn’t a child’s frantic skitter away from the thing they were afraid of. It was a skepticism, an intelligent analysis of the situation. The child’s mind felt like a battle between a wild animal and a skilled soldier -- the two came from different worlds, and didn't belong together.

In the end, the child’s yearning won out. Unlike the girl’s mind, the cell was silent as neither Wanda nor Steve permitted a sound to leave them. In the silence, the near-imperceptible shuffling echoed like a gunshot as the little girl uncurled her slight form and inched forward. Steve and Wanda watched with bated breath as tiny fingers emerged from the shadowy cover of the cot. An inch away from Steve’s, the small hand paused. For a moment, it seemed like the little girl would pull back and hide away again but, after another pause, she hesitantly set her hand down in Steve’s still-waiting one. The captain gently curled his large fingers over her small ones and smiled.

“Pouvez-vous sortir?” _Can you come out?_ He requested gently, still gently grasping her fingers. Steve paused, waiting patiently for her to decide. Then, slowly, she emerged. First came the fair skin of her arms, then her dirty-blond hair that fell onto her face and the big blue eyes that it obscured, then the same type of hospital-esqe gown that Wanda had worn for four years, and finally her bare legs and tiny feet. When she had appeared completely, she curled away slightly and kept her eyes on her small hand locked in Steve’s big one. Steadily, she raised them up, scanning his suit, and eventually finding his face. Steve smiled as reassuringly as he could and gestured to Wanda who now hovered shyly in the door. “Je m'appelle Steve et c'est mon amie, Wanda.” _My name is Steve and this is my friend, Wanda._

The little girl looked up and found Wanda who smiled lightly and uttered the only French word she knew. “Bonjour.” _Hello._

The child then looked back to Steve. “Vous pouvez venir avec nous, loin d'ici.” _You can come with us, away from here._ He informed her gently, sweetly. The look in her eyes when she finally spoke was so hopeful that the man could feel his heart splitting into pieces. 

“Laisser?” _Leave?_

Steve swallowed the lump in his throat and Wanda exhaled measuredly as she felt the thought fly through the air. “Oui, chérie, tu peux partir.” _Yes, darling, you can leave._ That was all she needed apparently as, the moment she deemed he was telling the truth, she crawled into his lap and clutched his middle like he was her last hope. 

In some ways, Wanda supposed he was. She watched as Steve gently wrapped his large arms around the girl’s tiny frame, holding her like she was made of glass. As he rose from his spot on the floor, the child curled into him and tucked her face away in his shoulder. The captain placed one arm under her fragile legs and a protective hand on her back, holding her close to him. He met Wanda’s eyes and nodded to her.

Quietly, she led the way out of the compound, walking protectively in front of the pair in case any other hydra agents lingered. Periodically, she would glance back to check on the captain and the girl, and was inexplicably relieved each time she found them safe.

After a few minutes of walking, Steve murmured to her quietly. “Wanda,” she turned back, alarmed, but his mild expression soothed her, “can you notify the team?” He darted his eyes down to the child in his arms explanatorily. 

The young woman’s lips parted in surprise. She _never_ used to comms, never really spoke to the others period. Wanda knew that the rest of the team used to comms regularly to ask for aid or just joke around, but she stayed silent. She’d cost them enough and wouldn’t be able to bear it if one of them got hurt while she was distracting them or while they were helping her. _If they even would help me, which is doubtful._ Wanda thought sadly to herself. Briefly, the thought of her teammates watching in amusement as she was slaughtered by enemies flashed through her head. She shook it from her mind. It didn’t matter; she would have deserved it anyway.

Wanda pursed her lips and found Steve looking at her, eyebrows furrowed. She must have been lost in her mind longer than she thought. Quickly, she nodded to him and pressed a finger to her ear. Drawing a shaky breath, she spoke. “Captain Rogers and I are heading back to the quinjet now.” Wanda heard him sigh at the use of his title, but chose to ignore it. She looked over at the girl curled against his chest. “We’re coming back with the source of the energy. It’s...it’s a little girl.”

Silence rang out over the comms for a moment before Stark’s voice came through.

 _“I’m sorry, did you just say it’s a child?”_ He sputtered incredulously over their connection.

“Y-yes.” She confirmed. “I tracked the energy output back to her while we were at the base. It feels just like Piet- like _his_ did before. We found her in a cell.”

This time, it was not Stark that responded, but Clint. _“Okay,”_ he breathed, clearly struggling to compose himself. Wanda thought about little Lila and Cooper and Nathaniel Pietro just as she was sure Clint was doing in that moment as he continued, _“thanks, Wanda, you did good.”_

She wanted to refute him, but knew from experience that doing so would only get her a lecture so she opted instead to stay silent.

Her hand lowered from her ear and she turned to look back at the captain. There was a sorrowful look on his face not unlike the one he donned in response to seeing the little girl, only this time it was directed at her. Wanda knew why he was looking at her like that, but the thought bothered her immensely. 

Why didn’t he agree with her? Wanda had put him and his team through so much and, still, he insisted on being so unwaveringly _good_ to her and it was infuriating. She wished he would treat her coldly, regard her like the monster she was, make her pay for what she had done to them, but he didn’t. Wanda wanted to hate him, had tried so hard to hate him for being so good when all she had done was make mistakes.

She couldn’t.

Instead, she met his eyes and pursed her lips, daring him to say anything. He only matched her look with an earnest plea. God, he looked like a kicked puppy.

Wanda clenched her jaw and turned on her heel, leading them out of the base. When the exit came into sight, the young witch found that her breath was caught in her throat; she attempted to swallow it down but was left hiccuping as if choking on tears. Suddenly, Wanda felt like this was _her_ rescue from Hydra’s clutches. She turned back and looked at the small form cradled in her captain’s arms, who had paused in concern for her. She stepped toward the pair of them.

“Wanda?” Steve probed.

But her eyes were locked on the little girl. She reached forward to lay a hand on her back, but paused, catching sight of the hands which had caused so much destruction in her short life, which had hurt so many people. Wanda pulled her hands back and clutched them to her chest, curled into fists as if locking away her scarlet. She would _not_ hurt this little girl, she would make sure of it.

Wanda leaned in as close as she dared. When she looked at the small child, she saw a little girl with mousy brown hair and big green eyes who clutched desperately at her twin brother’s hand as they walked along behind their parents in Sokovia. The words came out choked and watery, but she pushed them out of her throat nonetheless.

“You’re safe now.” Wanda clenched her eyes shut, willing away the images of days locked in a cell, unknown chemicals coursing through her veins as she hid underneath the small cot in the same way this girl had. “I promise you, you’re safe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yayyy! Please leave a comment--tell me what you liked, what could be better, any suggestions(?). Your comments motivate me! <3


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I must really love you guys if I'm updating on my birthday for you :0 I hope you enjoy chapter three, it's extra long! As a disclaimer: I am not a medical professional and it's likely that I'll end up being inaccurate with medical mumbo-jumbo so I apologize if you're more knowledgeable than me and some of it makes you cringe.

The ride back to the compound was near silent. From the moment the three had boarded the plane to the second they deplaned, all voices ceased aside from Nat and Clint’s intermittent exchanges in the cockpit. 

It didn’t stop the glances, however. For a team of highly trained assassins and superheroes, the group was surprisingly non-discreet in their reconnaissance of the situation. They all _attempted_ to hide their curiosity but perhaps were just too shocked by the turn of events to really get a grip of themselves. The periodic flick of Rhodey’s eyes to where they sat, the creak of Clint’s chair each time he craned his neck to glance back at the trio, Sam’s still-shocked expression as he scanned the entire interior of the plane, none of it went unnoticed by Steve or Wanda.

At least they were trying to be subtle about it unlike Tony who paced up and down the cabin, his eyes on the child in Steve’s lap nearly the entire time. He opened his mouth a few times to say something, but decided it wasn’t a good idea and promptly went back to wearing a hole into the floor of the quinjet. 

Everyone heeded the unspoken rule not to approach them for fear of overwhelming the little girl but, even if they hadn’t, it was doubtful either of the two Avengers nearby would have allowed them to get close. Steve was holding the little girl to him gently, but firmly. He wasn’t sure he could have put her down if he wanted to because of the vice-like grip she had on his neck but, nonetheless, he held her close and stared determinedly at the wall in front of him with his jaw clenched to a breaking point.

The little girl was curled against him with her eyes shut tightly, feigning sleep and doing it rather well. It was almost unsettling, in fact, how well she had learned to mask her consciousness with even breaths, the leaning of her body, the limpness of her limbs. The only thing that betrayed her act was the ever-so-slight tightening of her grip each time the quinjet rocked with turbulence. The captain wondered how she had learned to do this, _why_ she had learned to do this. 

Wanda hovered nearby, out of reach of the pair, but close enough to send a message of protection. The witch had attempted to school her expression, but the cracks were opening all over; her lower lip shook ever so slightly, her fists were still clenched tightly by her sides, and her eyes belied the battle raging inside of her. Wanda felt as if the walls were closing in on her from all sides; the past threatened to consume her as memories overtook her thoughts, but the present nearly suffocated the young woman as she imagined what this little girl had been through. She wasn’t quite sure which poison was deadlier.

They landed on the helipad on top of the compound just as the sun was rising behind them. Upon entering the building, Steve, Wanda, and Tony made a beeline toward the medical wing. The little girl didn’t seem to be harboring any injuries (aside from being as thin as a rail), but they knew better than to take that to mean she was completely healthy.

Inside the medical wing, a team of doctors was waiting for them just as Clint had requested over the airwaves on the way back. The head physician received them with a nod and began to lead them back to one of the examination rooms. Tony conversed with the doctor at the front and Wanda trailed behind Steve. 

Once she was out of his sight, the young woman allowed a grimace to pass her face as she limped forward, the pain in her right hip growing steadily by the second. Her magic was not a permanent fix for her wound and moment by moment she could feel a steady stream of blood leaking down the side of her leg. She breathed in shakily as the wound throbbed with each step she took and used her sleeve to wipe a bead of sweat away from her brow.

“We’re prepared to conduct a physical examination of the child, Mr. Stark; but, if she has been experimented on as you said, and has enhancements like Ms. Maximoff, we fear that these enhancements could become volatile during our tests.” The doctor expressed to Tony.

Tony nodded in contemplation. “We’ve got some reading material from the base, I’ll start combing through it to see if there are any files on her. In the meantime, Elphaba-” he turned to Wanda who stumbled in surprise. Steve turned to look at her as she caught herself and his eyes were filled with concern so she composed herself quickly. She tasted metal in her mouth as she bit her lip to suppress a whimper of pain but, as her luck would have it, her expression was taken for confusion by Stark, “you know? Elphaba? Green with the broomstick and ‘Now I’m defying gravity’...” the genius hummed to the completely bewildered young witch. Stark looked from her to Steve and found his eyebrows practically lost in his hairline. 

Tony scoffed and muttered something about ‘...take them to Broadway…’ under his breath before clearing his throat. “Nevermind. Anyway, Maximoff, maybe you can be in the room to monitor our situation. If Dr. McCoy over here,” the doctor over his shoulder said nothing but sighed in a way Wanda took to mean he was used to dealing with Stark, “is right and our new charge has the same wispy tentacles as you, you’re the only one who would be able to keep everyone from getting hurt.”

Wanda must have resembled an oversized fish in that moment as she fumbled for a response. Her mind was reeling, possibly from the sheer amount of confusing references he had uttered in such a short amount of time, but also because of how casually he placed his trust in her. This man who she had caused to see his worst nightmare, who had seen first-hand how much pain she was capable of causing, had trusted her as easily as he did the rest of her teammates. Evidently, she didn’t need to respond because Steve cut in.

“Wait, Stark, Wanda needs medical attention too.” Wanda opened her mouth to protest, but the captain plowed forward. “She took a GSW to the hip while we were in the base and the bullet’s still lodged.”

Wanda spoke up before he could continue. “Captain, I’m fine. I can-”

He turned to her sharply. “Wanda, I know that’s not true. You think I couldn’t hear you limping behind me? You’re pale and practically shaking, I know that has to be hurting you.” Steve insists in a commanding tone.

She wants to be indignant, to rebuke him, but Wanda is so tired that, in that moment, she simply slumps to lean against the wall for support as she protests weakly. “Captain Rogers, you heard the doctor and Stark, I’m the only one who can hope to protect everyone if she has magic like I do. If I’m not there, we can’t help her without risking other people. I can wait a little while longer. It’s more important that we help-”

“Wanda,” there was an edge to his voice, but also a hint of a plea, “it’s important that we help her, but it is also important that we help you.”

Steve met Wanda’s eyes and it was as if she was ensnared by gaze. She exhaled sharply and looked away, knowing she couldn’t win this fight.

“What do we do then?” Wanda asked quietly.

“If I may, I believe I can offer a solution.” The doctor piped up from behind Tony. They all turned to him, Wanda much more slowly as she had allowed herself to feel the effects of her injury now that it was no longer hidden. “It isn’t ideal, but we can operate on Ms. Maximoff while she is still conscious. We would be sure to numb the area completely, but she would have full control of her mental faculties during the operation while we performed an exam on our patient who would be in the same room.”

Stark nodded, seeing the logic of the situation, but Steve was far more hesitant. “Are you certain that Wanda won’t be in any pain?” He inquired seriously. Although his question was aimed at the doctor, Steve’s eyes never left Wanda.

The doctor nodded assuringly. “Our medical staff has some of the world’s foremost and most highly trained nurses and doctors on site. We are abl-” but Wanda was fervently shaking her head.

“No, no.” The three men were alarmed by the choked tone of her voice as she stumbled back a step. Steve freed one hand from his hold on the little girl to extend a gentle hand toward her but Wanda flinched back instinctively. The witch didn’t miss the flash of hurt in his eyes, but was too overcome by memories to acknowledge it. “I-I can’t do that.”

“Whoa, whoa, what’s wrong?” Stark took a step forward and Wanda nearly lost it as flashes of white coats and scalpels and Baron Strucker assaulted her mind.

“W-wait please, just don’t-I can’t _see_ that. My powers they-they react with my emotions and um,” she swallowed deeply and tried to regain control of her shallow breaths, “and seeing your doctors operate on me, I would...No. I...I could hurt someone.”

Steve longed to reach out for her as Wanda visibly trembled, but had seen the way she had jerked out of his reach. He wanted to take her into his arms and protect her from every memory that plagued her, protect her from ever being hurt the way she had been by Hydra again. _“Seeing your doctors operate on me…”_ What had those monsters done to her?

“Just...let me be there to help with her while you perform your tests and then you can fix my leg,” the young woman knew she was practically begging, but didn’t care, “but I can’t, I _can’t_ …” 

The doctor’s voice was gentle, but imbibed with seriousness when he addressed her. “Ms. Maximoff, if there was another solution, I’d offer it to you; but, the bullet has been lodged in your hip for well over five hours now and it may already have moved because of your vigorous activity. We can’t risk delaying its removal anymore or you could sustain permanent damage to your leg; and we have to perform our exam on the girl in case she needs our aid.”

There were tears of desperation in her eyes. Steve didn’t know what compelled him to speak, or why he thought she would respond to him, but he did. “Wanda,” her head whipped around to him and the plea was clear in her eyes: _please don’t make me_. He wanted to give in, didn’t want to make her face these awful memories, but knew there wasn’t any alternative. He repeated her name and forced their gazes to lock, “I’ll stay with you.”

All Wanda wanted was to run away from the medical wing and hide away. She wanted her brother. _God_ , she wanted Pietro. She knew he could take her and run far away where the witch wouldn’t have to deal with any of it. But, as she took in the little girl who needed her help and the man holding her, whose earnest gaze made her feel so… safe, Wanda knew she couldn’t leave.

So, with the captain’s eyes settled on her, Wanda squeezed her eyes shut tightly and nodded her head haltingly. Steve heaved a sigh of relief and sent up a silent prayer of thanks to God as the doctor quickly whisked them away to an operating room.

The room looked sterile with an operating for her and a hospital bed for the little girl. Wanda took a shuddering breath with each step into the room as she forced herself to repeat _it’s not Hydra, it’s not Hydra_. She looked to her left where Steve watched her with careful eyes. _See? There’s the captain. He’s not Hydra, he fought Hydra, fought me too when I was causing all that destruction-No. Stop. You’re making up for it, you can help now. Help the little girl, help her, help her. But how can a monster help anyone?_

The doctors led her to the table. Every muscle in Wanda’s body seized up as she touched the cold metal but obediently sat on top and lied back, her eyes trained on the bed just an arm’s length away from her where Steve was attempting to place the little girl down.

A startled cry breached the child’s lips as her back hit the soft material of the hospital cot and Steve swept her back into his arms when wild fingers gripped at the fabric of his shirt. He took a step back from the bed and began murmuring soft assurances to the frightened girl.

“Tu es en sécurité ici.” _You’re safe here_. Steve’s large hand stroked comforting circles over her back. “Les médecins vont vous aider.” _The doctors are going to help you._

His words had little effect, though, as she spoke for the first time since the captain had first picked her up in her cell. “Non, non, ça fait mal.” _No, no, it hurts_. Her little voice shook with her pleas and anger and pain surged in Steve’s chest when he registered her words. It was a battle to keep from finding all of the Hydra agents that had been in the base and tearing them limb from limb.

It should have stricken him as strange, just how connected Steve felt to this child he’d met only hours ago, but he was too focused on the task at hand to ponder it. He had just felt this instant bond, this familiarity with her the instant he’d seen her. _Strange_.

“Shhh, je ne laisserai personne te blesser.” _I won’t let anyone hurt you_. Steve told the little girl. Her frantic struggle lessened and she leaned away just enough to find his kind blue eyes. 

“Tu resteras?” _You will stay?_ Came her quiet question.

Steve swallowed and nodded his head as he promised sincerely. “Je resterai.” _I will stay_. Every other person in the room was silent as they watched the exchange between the two, but both Wanda and Tony sported considerate expressions on their face. 

Neither had missed the peculiarity of the exchange. Steve had never been an unkind person, far from it, but he also wasn’t the most open. He kept his heart close to him and didn’t give pieces of it away easily. This child, however, this little girl seemed to have taken a hold of the whole thing the minute he laid eyes on her.

Wanda tilted her head a little. There was something else about the two of them…

She dismissed the train of thought, though, as Steve finally managed to place the reluctant little girl on the hospital bed and took a seat in a chair placed between the two of them. The head physician explained that they would begin operating on Wanda before they examined the little girl so that the witch could get past the initial fear and focus her attention on the child. Wanda exhaled a shaky breath and nodded her assent to the doctor.

The medical staff was very kind, explaining each step before they did it. Wanda watched in trepidation as they pressed a needle into her exposed hip to numb the area. Her eye twitched at the light pinch as her body prepared itself for the burning sensation it was sure would follow soon after. But no such burning occurred and the young woman could feel herself relax marginally.

During the few minutes taken to ensure the numbing factor was in full effect, a curtain was pulled to cover the lower half of her body so the little girl wouldn’t see. The child in question was curled as close to the edge of the bed as possible, clutching Steve’s hand in both of hers. Her large blue eyes tracked the movement of the doctors nervously but, for a moment, they settled on Wanda and she looked scared _for_ her.

Stepping up to her side, the doctor notified Wanda that they were about to begin. She felt her heart jump and skitter in anticipation as she fought not to jump away. Her eyes found the exposed flesh at her hip and the bloody site where the bullet had entered and couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her as her mind’s eye saw Dr. Strucker and List and needles and _pain, pain, pain._

The witch didn’t know if she could do it. Her stomach roiled as its contents threatened to reappear. She could feel the cold sweat break out on her forehead and neck as she stared down at her wound.

“Hey, Wanda,” the woman snapped her gaze to find the captain’s comforting gaze, “don’t look. Just look at me, alright?” His voice was soothing and it was like a _hush_ washed over her screaming mind. “Don’t look.”

She nodded and kept her eyes trained on his face. She tried to turn her head when movement drew her attention, but Steve placed a careful hand in hers and pulled her eyes back to him. He looked past her then and, when he turned back, he smiled encouragingly. “They’ve already started the procedure.”

Wanda allowed herself to digest the fact that they hadn’t lied to her and she really hadn’t felt any pain. The opportunity for them to hurt her had been right there and, yet, they hadn’t taken it. For a young woman who had spent four years under Hydra’s thumb, this concept was a foreign one.

A nurse waiting near the foot of the little girl’s bed then began explaining that, now that the procedure had begun, they would start their tests on the child. 

Wanda diligently kept her attention on the little girl and allowed her mind to extend far enough that she’d be able to detect and power the girl might exhibit. Just like they had with Wanda, the nurse explained each step to the little girl and waited for Steve to translate before she proceeded.

“I’m going to scan you with this light now.” She gently informed them.

“Elle va briller une lumière sur toi.” _She’s going to shine a light on you_. He relayed softly. “Juste comme ça.” _Just like this._ The captain held out his arm and the nurse clicked a button on her device. A strip of red laser stretched out and scanned over the surface of his thick forearm. The little girl’s eyes followed the movement and then flicked to his face to search for any sign of pain. 

Finding none, she let the nurse do the same to her, although she clutched tighter to Steve when the light first touched her head. They repeated this process as the nurse checked her eyes, ears, mouth, and not once did Wanda sense any kind of power surge from the girl, not even when they had to draw blood.

The nurse had sighed deeply and looked sympathetically at the little girl. “Now, I know this isn’t fun, but I need to take a blood sample. I’m going to have to use a little needle.”

Steve clenched his jaw tightly, but relayed the message softly to the little girl who whined and scooted back toward the captain even more. He murmured soothingly to her until she calmed enough to let the nurse go on.

“I’m going to put this band on your arm and use this cold spray so it won’t hurt as much.” The nurse said kindly. When Steve translated it, the little girl eyed the nurse suspiciously, but did not move to stop her.

When it came time to draw the blood, Steve made sure to keep the girl’s attention on him the whole time, just as he had done for Wanda, and the child only whimpered a little when the prick of the needle came. Wanda remained focused on the girl the entire time, but felt no telekinetic or telepathic activity. An abundance of fear and distrust, but no power.

The nurse then sweetly told the child that it was over now and she could rest. Soon after, the head doctor informed Wanda that her own surgery was over and she startled with the realization that she had forgotten it was happening. 

She was moved to a second hospital bed in the room, on the opposite side from the little girl. Wanda settled, body tired, but mind reeling with the day’s events and unable to turn off. When the little girl finally fell into a fitful sleep, Steve stood and quietly treaded to her bedside.

He took a seat next to her bed. “How are you doing?”

Wanda kept her voice measured as she responded. “Just fine, Captain. I’ll be ready to train again in a few days, you don’t have to worry.”

Steve’s forehead puckered in a frown at her response. “I wouldn’t give a damn if you couldn’t train for another few _months_ , Wanda.” He remembered her words from last night as they were approaching the Hydra base. _"I won’t get in the way, Captain, I’ll be ready."_ “I don’t care about that. I just want you to be healthy.”

The witch stiffened at his expression of concern for her and Steve’s chest tightened at her reaction. He sighed and decided to approach it from a different angle. “I didn’t get to thank you earlier, you probably saved my ass.”

“You don’t need to thank me, Captain Rogers.”

“It’s Steve, Wanda,” he insisted, “and yes, I do. You got shot protecting me, which I’m not going to pretend I’m happy about.”

“You don’t need to be happy about it, Captain, you just need to accept that it happened.” Wanda retorted. Steve’s brows drew down and he shook his head. He opened his mouth to respond, but the witch didn’t let him. “If you don’t mind, Captain, I’m very tired and I’d like to sleep now.”

“Wanda-”

“-If you could please,” she cut him off flatly, “pull the curtain so that I can have some privacy.”

Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned away from him. Wanda could feel his eyes burning into the back of her head but refused to look back at him. She could hear him sigh heavily and his chair scraped as he stood up.

“I just want you to be safe, Wanda.” It was said quietly and the young woman thought that, even if a hundred other people had been in the room, she’d be the only one to hear it.

Then his footsteps drew further away and the curtain was pulled, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, reviews will motivate me to write faster so encouragements, criticisms, and suggestions are all welcome!
> 
> Thank you my lovely readers <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm baaaaaack! A note to add: I've decided that I want Bruce to be in this story so we're going to pretend that he did not fly off to Sakaar following Age of Ultron. Enjoy!

The ping of a notification interrupted Steve as he swiped at another row of purple candy on his screen. Both Wanda and the little girl remained in exhausted slumber on either side of the room, so Steve had resorted to one of the games Stark had downloaded onto his cellphone. Though he’d never admit it, the captain had come to find that the Candy Crush one was annoyingly addicting.

Tapping the notification, his thread with Hill was pulled up with a new message from the Deputy Director at the bottom of the screen.

_Conference room 9 ASAP._

Steve sat up straighter in his seat. If Hill was calling him in, it must have been important. He allowed his eyes to drift over to the tiny thing that was sleeping on the hospital cot, curled as closely to the edge of the bed where Steve sat as possible. _Maybe they’ve found something._

The thought lit a fire underneath him and the supersoldier slipped the device back into his pocket as he stood from his seat, careful to keep silent. He peeked past the curtain and found Wanda still peacefully asleep. It struck him, how much _lighter_ she seemed, for lack of a better word. In waking, she walked the halls of the compound and fought missions like she carried the weight of every one of her teammates on her back. Steve had never seen her so unburdened. A sad smile stretched on his lips as he replaced the curtain and crept from the room.

As he rode up the levels of the compound, the captain’s mind wandered to every possible scenario of what was about to happen. Perhaps the girl did have powers like they initially suspected. He wondered what she might be able to do: Would she be like Wanda with her mind-reading and telekinesis? Or like the young witch’s brother had been, able to run at incredible speeds? It was also entirely possible that she would be able to do things that they had never seen before.

Another thought came to mind: they could have found the girl’s parents. After all, children didn’t just appear from nowhere. The most likely scenario was that this girl had been kidnapped from her family so that Hydra could use her as a lab rat and that her poor parents had been wondering after their child for who knows how long. _She’ll be able to go home._ Steve ignored the traitorous part of himself that inexplicably ached at the prospect of her leaving.

The notion of her family sparked another thought in Steve’s head. Maybe they just knew her name, who she was. For the past eight hours, they had all been referring to her as “the little girl”, “the kid”, or simply “her”. It would be a little strange to finally be able to match a name to her small face. It would be jarring to be able to match any information to her, to be honest. Her name, her age, her birthday.

From looking at her, most of the team had surmised that she was, at most, five years old, but it was difficult to tell if she was just small or malnourished. Steve wouldn’t have had trouble picking her up regardless--super strength or not--but he had, quite literally, barely been able to feel her weight bearing against his arm. The entire time, the captain had been terrified of cracking her fragile bones if he squeezed her too hard or jostled her too roughly and had essentially been holding her to him with the strength of his fingertips.

As he approached the double doors labeled “Conference Room 9”, Steve mentally prepared himself for whatever he was about to learn--good or bad--and pressed forward.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Floors above him, in a state-of-the-art Stark Industry lab, Tony and Bruce combed through thousands of files taken from the Hydra base in search of any information they could find on the little girl. 

Tony swiped away yet another holographic file that had yielded nothing. He ran a tired hand over his face and sighed. Bruce glanced over his shoulder at the other man, but stayed silent knowing that if Tony was going to say something, it wouldn’t be because he prompted him.

A beat of silence later and Dr. Banner was proved right when his fellow genius off-handedly muttered. “This would be so much easier if we had a key phrase that JARVIS could search for.”

Bruce bobbed his head in agreement without taking his eyes off the file before him. “That would be ideal, but unfortunately I don’t think ‘small child’ or ‘little girl’ will really cut it.”

Stark opened his mouth to respond, but a disembodied voice got there first. “Dr. Banner is correct, Boss, I have already scanned all files in the hard drive for every iteration your team has used to refer to the little girl and have come up empty.”

He closed his mouth and looked up in mild irritation. “Since when have you acted without prior prompting, JARVIS?”

“You added it as part of the ‘Predictions and Suggestions’ update after I was unable to suggest apology gifts for Ms. Potts because I was not prompted.”

Tony scrunched his face, unable to recall the instance. 

Bruce chuckled softly as he stood from his seat. “I’m gonna grab a sandwich from the kitchen, Tony, you coming?”

“No-can-do, Chartreuse, gotta get this done ASAP.”

His friend resisted the urge to sigh as it seemed Tony had once again worked himself into his “hyper-drive” state. “Tony, c’mon man, we can take a short break and then get back to work.” Bruce frowned as he was flat-out ignored. Of course, he thought this was important as well (if only because there was a child involved), but Tony’s vehemence and one-track focus betrayed that something else was going on with the tech mogul. “Tony?”

The doctor saw the way his friend stilled for a second. Without turning his body, Stark quietly posed a question to him. “You saw the girl, right?” It was a rhetorical question as Tony had been there when Bruce had checked in on the hospital trio. “The second I saw her, there was something that just threw me. She’s familiar but I’ve never seen her before, obviously, if she’s been locked away in Hydra’s tallest tower guarded by a Nazi-birthing squid for however long. I can’t get it out of my head. There’s something else going on and I need to…” He squinted at the hologram in front of him, realizing it was written in a different language. It was a latin language--French, most likely. “JARVIS, translate?”

The letters toggled in front of him as they became decipherable to his brain. He scanned down the document with hungry eyes and-

_Holy shit._

A plastic tumbler of coffee crashed to the floor as Tony’s eyes blew wide. He exhaled sharply and reached up to grab a tuft of hair. “Bruce.” The doctor had startled at the clamor and was now watching on with apprehension practically flooding his shoes. “Bruce, look at this.” Tony pinched the hologram and enlarged it so that it was visible to the both of them before collapsing in a rolling chair behind him.

He watched as Banner’s eyes flew across the words and understanding dawned on his face. The man swallowed and leaned heavily against one of the lab tables. “Does this mean what I think it means?” 

Tony raked a hand through his hair and he met his friend’s gaze. “Yeah,” he shook his head, disbelief coloring his every word, “yeah I think it does.”

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

_Her brother tugged her along as she giggled and, together, they darted through the streets of Sokovia, dodging snow banks and passing vendors that knew them well, but still tutted at their childish games. Her twin, only 12 minutes older (as he so often liked to remind her), but much bigger and much faster, always forgot (or ignored) that she could not run quite so fast._

_“Pietro, stop going so fast!” She attempted to sound indignant as she tripped over an errant crate, but couldn’t keep the joyful grin off her face that she had no doubt her brother could hear in her voice. And even if he couldn’t hear it, she had no doubt he knew she was happy. He always knew._

_“Keep up, Sister! It’s cold out here!” Obnoxious as always, he slowed his pace none and continued pulling her by the tips of her thin fingers. Finally arriving, he skidded on the slippery ice and changed direction, tearing through the front door of their apartment building._

_Four floors of stairs somehow couldn’t warm her frozen cheeks, but no ice-bitten skin could stand up to her parents’ presence. As her older brother pushed through the cracked door that the twins knew to mean safety and home, the aroma of freshly made paprikash washed over them. They inhaled deeply and she squealed before taking off toward the kitchen._

_Just as she approached the door, however, two big strong arms caught her around her tiny middle and swept her into a bear hug. She giggled and fought back half-heartedly at the embrace. “Papa, let me go! Mama’s making paprikash!”_

_Her father’s thick, scratchy beard tickled her neck as he smothered her with kisses. “You would greet the paprikash before you would me, my princess?” He teased her and she laughed as she grabbed his cheeks and planted a big kiss on the apple of his cheek as she always did (“Because there’s no hair there, Papa!”)._

_11-year-old Wanda Maximoff clutched his father’s neck as he carried her to the kitchen as though she were still a toddler. Inside, Pietro had already taken up the chopping board next to their mother and was chopping potatoes as she stirred the pot. When her mother’s eyes found the father-daughter pair, she smiled with a knowing twinkle in her eye and held up a spoon filled with food to her._

_Their father walked over to the stove and lowered himself so their mother could hold the spoon to her lips. Wanda tasted it and nodded excitedly to her mother as the older woman laughed joyously at her response. Wanda positively beamed as the tinkling sound left her throat. She thought her mother was the most beautiful woman in the world and she and her brother were endlessly enchanted by her laughter._

_Her father placed her on the counter and then bent over to lay a kiss into Pietro’s brown mop of hair, the boy playfully batted him away but his grin betrayed any real annoyance. Their mother clapped at them to wash their grubby hands and faces, which they did eagerly and then settled at the table._

_As their mother ladled food into their bowls, the scents of her father’s aftershave, her mother’s cheap perfume, and freshly cooked paprikash washed over Wanda and she knew she was home._

Wanda woke with paprikash still lingering on her taste buds, but with a ruckus buzzing about. Not in the room, no, but in her head. It wasn’t her mind that was creating the noise, however. Another mind had bled into her consciousness and was crowding her brain with a mosh-posh of noises.

There was fear and anxiety flickering about with heavy doses of confusion sweeping about their skirts. Still a bit lost in her dream world, it took Wanda a moment to remember the little girl on the other side of the curtain.

She was awake, that much the witch could tell. A sleeping mind and a wakeful one were like night and day to her senses. She was awake, afraid, and alone. The captain must have stepped out, then. Wanda longed to reach out to her (a shocking thing, really, since all she ever did since Pietro was hide away from others), but wondered if she might only make it worse.

But as she prodded around the emotions which had invaded her mind, a stray tear dripped off her chin because the little girl reminded herself so much of herself. The things that overwhelmed the child’s senses now were the ones that Wanda had been drowning in for years.

Lifting the blanket from her lap, she slid from the bed. The young woman held back a groan as her hip pulled in protest, but she pushed forward and limped across the room. Metal slid against metal when the curtain was pushed away and the fear in the atmosphere thickened to molasses. 

Wanda found the tiny form curled up on the hospital bed that was much too big for her. The girl’s big blue eyes met hers and the witch startled at how bright they were. She’d only ever met one other person with eyes that bright.

She’d found that her powers helped her, somehow, with learning other languages, so she picked up one of the few phrases Steve had repeated to the child.

“C'est d'accord.” _It’s alright._ She murmured. Perhaps it was her imagination, but a bit of the girl’s fear dissipated at Wanda’s presence. “C'est d'accord.” No, it wasn’t her imagination. She was still afraid, but the little one’s mind had somehow linked a bridge between Wanda and safety, possibly because she had been there when she was rescued. As she got closer, a warmth rose in the girl and she allowed the young woman to sit at the foot of the bed.

She sat for a moment, gaze matched with the child’s in silence. Wanda didn’t know what else to say and, if she had, she wouldn’t know how to say it. So she simply stayed quiet and hoped that the child understood what her being here meant. _That it’s safe._ As she took in her face, she found it strangely familiar. Her eyes, however, were captivating.

 _Seeing_ was the only way she knew to describe it. They saw straight into her soul like she didn’t think a child’s should and it perplexed the young woman.

She knew that Wanda would not hurt her, of that the witch was certain, and any doubt that lingered still in her insecure mind was banished when the little girl, with eyes on Wanda’s face to search for a shred of displeasure, inched across the covers until she was beside her. To her utter shock, but warm contentment, the girl clamored up with her tangled blonde hair and thin little fingers and settled herself in Wanda’s lap.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, the aching of her hip was sharp, but Wanda could barely feel it. Her hands hovered a moment, unsure of what to do, but then she gently set them down. One rested on the child’s back, through which she could feel the girl’s bones, bringing back memories of foodless days on the streets. The other stroked her blonde hair, through all of this which had remained soft and silky.

A warm feeling in her chest, Wanda hummed a tune she hadn’t heard in over a decade, but still had burned into her heart. It was the one her mother sang at night when things were bad. When the bombs wouldn’t stop shaking the city, when the cold seeped through the cracked walls and into their bones, when Papa had lost his second job to a destroyed factory, Mama would gather all four of them onto their parents’ bed. Wanda, still so small, would lay on her father’s chest with one of his arms draped across her back, the other holding Pietro close to his side. Their mother would lay on the other side of her twin and curl close, fingers linked with her father’s, and would sing the song that Wanda sang now until they all drifted off and into sweeter dreams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment, review, anything to give me motivation to write more more more <3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to update, but I think you'll be happy to learn I've fleshed out the rest of the story so that I actually know where I'm going for once. Eeeek! I think you'll all enjoy this chapter, it's one I've been looking forward to for a while and many of your questions will be answered. It's a very Steve heavy chapter and I really like the way it turned out. It's also the longest one I've written so far. Be advised: I'm no scientist and probably none of this is correct :) Enjoy!

All eyes land on him as the heavy door falls shut with a click. The sight which greets him is a cohort of professional-looking doctors gathered around the conference table headed by Maria hill; although, as Steve scans the faces of the doctors in the room, it’s very clear that many are struggling to hold onto their calm demeanors. As a younger man toward the back swallows nervously, the captain suddenly feels as if he’s back in a glass elevator, eyeing Brock Rumlow suspiciously.

“Steve,” Hill greets with a nod. He isn’t sure what it is, but something flashes behind her eyes as she watches him intently.

“Hill, doctors, is this about the little girl? Have we found something?” He asks eagerly.

The same man from earlier looks as if he’s about to pass out as Steve poses the question. Even the head doctor whom Steve had met when the team initially returned to the compound looked a few shades paler than when they’d first met. Across the table, Maria’s eyes dropped as if unable to face him.

The atmosphere of the room was soaked in trepidation and it seemed that everyone was waiting for him to spontaneously combust. Steve felt as if, at any moment, his heart would burst from his chest and run out the door. The weight of their gazes made him feel like a train on a collision course and everyone at the station could see the danger but him.

“What’s going on? Is there something wrong with her?” Steve demanded.

Hill pursed her lips and met him with a look that was about as apologetic as he had ever seen on her. “It is about the little girl, Steve, but it’s also about you.”

The thudding in his chest stuttered as if tripping over the ridges of his ribs. His head whips around to shoot questioning glances at every person in the room, all of whom suddenly appear repelled by his blue eyes. “What do you mean?”

The doctor cleared his throat, pulling at his collar uncomfortably as he began to speak. “Captain Rogers, we’ve completed our exams on the little girl and by all accounts she seems to be very healthy. Our scans show no signs of any illnesses or medical concerns and her body doesn’t appear to be exhibiting any of the indicators which Wanda or Pietro Maximoff did as a result of their powers manifesting.” Steve had a feeling there was something he wasn’t saying.

“So you don’t believe she has any powers?” 

The doctor nods. “While we cannot give a 100% definitive answer, it’s very unlikely that she has abilities…” he trailed for a moment before finishing slowly, “like those of Wanda or Pietro...”

Steve gave him a long look as he considered the man’s stilted phrasing. “...but like those of someone else?” The doctor shifted and shared a pensive look with the woman next to him. The Captain’s tone lowered dangerously and he shot the other man a look that practically dared him to lie. “Doctor, what are you not telling me?”

The man opened his mouth but it seemed that word eluded him. The doctor pursed his lips and took a deep breath. Steve white-knuckled the back of the chair in front of him as he waited in stifled silence. When the medical professional met his eyes once more, his expression was drawn and contrite. “Captain Rogers, we’ve run the child’s blood work four separate times and every doctor in this facility has examined the analysis, but the results of our examination is very clear.”

His heart was pounding. Everyone looked so nervous, _why are they so nervous?_ He feels his stomach seize at the thought that something could be wrong with her. _But he doctor said that she was healthy._ Or maybe he only meant in terms of the scans. Had the blood work revealed something else? But why, _why_ did that inspire such fear in him, though? Steve had met this child only hours ago and yet he felt that he could fall apart on her behalf at a moment’s notice. _Or it’s her powers._ She doesn’t have powers like Wanda or Pietro but then… like who?

The doctor cleared his suddenly quite-parched throat and continued to slowly twist the knife in Steve’s anxiety. “Our tests have revealed that fifty percent of the little girl’s DNA is matched with the blood work of another person in our system.” His breath stilled in his chest as his mind scrambled to understand what he was being told. “Yours, Captain.”

Steve blinked, his mouth moving as if to say something. It was all too much for him to process and although in his heart he knew what they were telling him, his mind struggled to assemble the puzzle pieces. “I-I don’t…” The room looked on like children at a zoo as the ever-composed symbol of their country floundered. Steve could swear he was drowning. He didn't know when, but at some point he had fallen into the ocean and now the waves lapped at his face while he fought against the strong currents of the angry sea. Maybe he’d never really left the Valkyrie, he was still lost in the ocean, trapped in the ice while the rest of the world moved on without him. Was it cold? Were his lungs and his veins frozen? Steve could swear that he could feel the sensation of ice creeping through his blood once more as the room spun around him. 

He searched, clawed for some rock to hold onto, to steady himself on. But no matter where he looked, the face he somehow, inexplicably wanted to see in this moment was not there. No, she was resting behind a curtain that she'd used to isolate herself in a room floors below him, laying only a few feet away from a girl with eyes that were _so_ familiar. He’d seen them before, he knew it. They were eyes he’d seen through a hazy fog when he was sick with pneumonia for the forty-third time of the year, eyes he’d seen through swollen eyelids after another jerk decided to teach him a lesson in an alley, eyes he'd seen twinkling at him every damn day until that damn stint in the tuberculosis ward-

They were eyes he'd seen in the mirror that morning.

His breath caught.

“Steve,” God, since when had Hill’s voice ever been _gentle?_ He met her eyes (brown, not green like he wished in that moment) and in that second came to understand what he was being told, how monumental a change was happening as his world was ripped from its axis and thrown into the orbit of another person, “she's your daughter.”

And even though he knew it was coming, the soldier still felt as if his kneecaps had been blown out by a sniper hiding in the trees a hundred feet away while he ran into enemy territory. A sick sensation coiled in his chest as he, not for the first time, wished that that was where he was. It had been terrible, being there in the middle of a slaughter but, in some perverted way, Steve consistently felt that he belonged there more than he did here.

Never did he feel that more than in that moment.

The connection he felt to her; the memories of home she seemed to pull to the surface when he looked at her; and the shocking realization that, buried beneath the panic, he _wanted_ it to be true, made what Hill said almost undeniable to his heart. But his mouth had yet to get the memo.

“I- that’s...it’s not possible.” Steve choked.

The doors to the room burst open as Tony entered in the only way he seemed to know, Bruce trailing him determinedly.

“It’s true, Cap.” Stark replied, more serious than Steve had ever known him to be. He stepped forward and placed a small black box on the conference table. He waved a hand above it and a holographic file was pulled up, enlarged for the room to see. “I didn’t think so either. The kid is at least 4 years old and we pulled you out of the ice no more than two years ago, but these files proved both of us wrong. Well, not wrong, but our doubts are essentially irrelevant.”

Bruce took his cue to step in. “The files we uncovered from the Hydra base confirm what our doctors have found.” The scientist flicked his wrist and a page was pulled to the front of the hologram. Steve’s eyes zeroed in on the name adorning the top of the file. “Her name is Madeleine Charpentier, born December 3, 2011, four years old. The records of her birth are all denoted by a Dr. Basile Allard. A Hydra agent by the name of Eleonore Charpentier was artificially inseminated with Steve’s DNA so that she could, in Charpentier’s words ‘bring Hydra’s greatest weapon to life’.”

Bruce’s words were quiet and lacking any of his usual enthusiasm for science. Steve could feel every eye on him, but he couldn’t lift his head from its bent position as he stared blankly at the errant pencil someone had left on the floor. That little girl that he’d first met less than a day ago, who was probably asleep in a hospital bed that was much too big for her, who was experimented on by Hydra, she was his.

No one made a sound as Steve remained frozen in disbelief. His mind spun at the, frankly, unreal revelations that were coming to light. At the knowledge that Hydra somehow had access to his DNA and had used it, used _him_ , to bring a defenseless little being into the world all the while everyone thought he was still dead somewhere at the bottom of the ocean.

_Madeleine_. His daughter.

Steve didn’t know if he was going to pass out or throw up or just curl into a ball and start bawling, but Hill asked him anyway. “Steve, are you okay?”

He wanted to laugh at the question. What did she want him to say? “Of course, Deputy Director, I’m having no sort of visceral reaction to the fact that, despite the face that I was in a coma for seventy years and only woke up two years ago, I somehow have a four-year-old daughter that’s been trapped in a Hydra cell all her life being a lab rat because no one knew she fucking existed.” But he didn’t voice his sardonic tirade and settled for a shaky imitation of a nod.

Banner regarded him with a rueful gaze but continued, tone somber as he recounted his and Tony’s findings. “Allard hypothesized that the presence of the super-soldier serum in her blood would increase Madeleine’s compatibility with experimentation by way of Loki’s scepter or that it would even heighten the effects.” Steve grit his teeth as his chest filled with rage at the notion that a child, _his_ child, was going to be used by Hydra for their sick cause. In their eyes, she was nothing more than a weapon to further their delusions. “However, all of Allard’s records show that Madeleine showed no results after…” Bruce swallowed and continued with a disgusted glare, “ _extensive_ experimentation by Hydra scientists, but they did find that the serum’s regenerative abilities and heightened healing factor are still present in Madeleine’s body.”

The captain released an irate growl and shoved the chair he was holding with enough force to crack the backing. He knew what that meant and he knew that everyone else had figured it out too. They had hurt her. Steve tried to shut the doors to his imagination but couldn’t fight against the flood of images that overwhelmed his brain of that scared little girl being bruised, broken, and bled by faceless scientists. 

Beside him, Tony released a harsh breath and leveled the door with a murderous countenance and Bruce appeared two inches away from emerald.

“Their files are thorough,” Bruce bit out, “but that’s the gist of what we found.” The room was bathed by a horrified quiet and not a single person knew how to break it. 

Steve himself was trembling. His hands opened and closed at his sides as if confused whether to form fists and go hunting for some Nazi scum or to find something to grab onto in order to ground himself to this reality. Being hit with so many bombs in such a short amount of time left Steve feeling as if he was once again that scrawny kid getting his ass beat in a back alley of Brooklyn, grasping the bricks of a building to haul his bruised body back upright, unsure if he’ll be able to get up again if he takes another blow.

Afterward, Steve would think back and liken the state of his mind to the battleground that was New York during the Chitauri attack. Thoughts running wild, crashing into each other, fear and confusion running rampant. But, at the moment he was too scattered to come up with a metaphor so he simply tried to organize his thoughts.

_I have a daughter._ Steve attempted to keep a level head as he combed through the new information that sat at the top of his brain. _I have a daughter named Madeleine, she’s four years old, Hydra created her._ The reeling man squeezed his eyes closed as he fought against the feeling of violation that ran through him at the thought of Hydra taking a part of him for their own use. _She’s been hurt by Hydra._

For a moment, Steve breathed, believing those had been the most pressing snippets of information, but then he found himself pulling another thought to the forefront of his brain. _She’s beautiful._

And she was. For as strange as he found the thought to be in the present situation, the captain couldn’t deny the swell he felt in his chest at the thought that he somehow had a daughter. It felt obscene because Hydra had used him, used her, hurt them both, but it didn’t change the fact that she was his and he thought that she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It was peculiar how those two things could coexist in his mind: the violation and anger he felt because of Hydra, and the wonder he felt because of her. _Because of Madeleine_ , he reminded himself. _That’s her name._

Eventually, Hill spoke up quietly to call attention back to a matter that had gotten lost in the shuffle. “Madeleine being here also means that Hydra somehow is in possession of some form of Steve’s DNA.” It seemed pale in comparison to everything he had just learned, but Steve knew in time he’d remember how urgent it was. “It will be imperative that we organize future search and seizure missions.”

Tony frowns. “What I don’t understand is...well there’s a good amount of things I don’t understand about Hydra--not to mention this situation--but why they didn’t use it until now. Madeleine is four years old, Steve wasn’t found until two years ago so it’s possible that they’ve had it in their possession for a much longer period of time. But, I think we would’ve heard if there were a bunch of overpowered Nazis running around. Didn’t all of Erskine’s buddies say the secret of the serum was in Steve’s blood?”

But Bruce gestured a negative. “For the longest time, scientists studying the serum had to result to studying it through Steve’s blood because all of Erskine’s research was lost with him, but there was a reason they were never able to replicate the serum and it wasn’t just a lack of technology. Steve’s body essentially absorbed the serum into his DNA and, while you are able to see the differences holistically between his DNA and another person’s, it isn’t possible to isolate and synthesize the compounds of the super serum. It’s possible that this method, through Madeleine, was the only feasible one they could conceive.”

Steve hissed a sharp exhale at hearing their clinical analysis of his struggles. So often, Steve had to remind himself that he was a person, as surreal as it sounds. But when he had to deal with this, with people reducing the measure of his life down to the chemistry in his blood, of people regarding him not for who he was but _what_ he was, sometimes it was easy to forget that Captain America was just a part of Steve Rogers and not the other way around.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but if that’s all, Hill, I’d like to leave.” Steve cut in brusquely. Bruce dipped his head guiltily and Tony closed his eyes in what seemed like regret as they realized how they were discussing their friend’s life.

Hill regarded him for a long moment, an indecipherable air about her, but conceded with a nod.

Steve didn’t spare anyone another glance as he turned tail and left the room. His feet seemed to carry him although he didn’t know where the hell he was going. A numbness had seeped into his bones the moment he left the room. If any person passed by him, they’d have no clue that Captain America had just had his entire world--no, _galaxy_ flipped on its head.

He didn’t register a single thing as he walked. Not the bustling agents, not the coffee spill that he robotically stepped over, not Clint when he called for his attention, not the elevator ride. Every blurry and non-descript shape remained on the peripherals of his mind until he stood in front of a door in the hospital wing. 

It was a normal door. A sterile white with a silver handle. Nothing about it indicated that it hid the person Steve both desperately wanted to see and wanted to hide from. Almost every atom in his being suddenly was wrenching forward and willing him to push the door open, but every synapse in his mind told him that once he went in, there was no turning back. 

A part of him said to take a few more moments where the world was still as he knew it (not that he really knew this world, it was 2015 after all), but an even bigger part screamed to see his daughter.

He stared hard at the handle, willing it to make the decision for him so that he wouldn’t have to be the one to turn it and face his reality. 

“I knew you’d end up here, just surprised it was so soon after.” Steve shifted to see Tony perusing the items in the vending machine. “Although maybe it shouldn’t surprise me that you’d do the exact opposite of what I expect.”

Steve didn’t respond. His eyes honed back in on the fingerprint on the top of the door handle. _I wonder who left that there._

“That was a big shock there, Capsicle.” Tony said after a stretch of silence. Steve huffed out a short laugh at what was possibly the understatement of his life and bobbed his head in agreement. “Are you gonna go see your big shock or are you gonna stare at the door handle until she turns eighteen?”

_That’s the golden question_ , the captain thought. “You know I always wanted a family.” He admits dryly. 

Tony didn’t say it, but the fact sort of surprised him. Whenever his old man told stories about Captain America, he made him seem like the type that never had the time to slow down and have a family. Although, now that he thought about it, that was probably just his father projecting himself onto Steve.

Steve continued. “I never thought it could have happened before, didn’t think I could ever find a doll to settle down with a 95 pound asthmatic.” He smiled ruefully. “Then when I finally thought I could have the life that I wanted, I died and woke up in the 21st century. Ever since I came out of the ice, I assumed any possibility of having that life went down with the Valkyrie. But now…”

He trailed off and, for once, Tony let him. Steve swallowed. “Now that I have...part of that future I wanted, I can’t help but feel pretty screwed up for actually being happy about it. I feel sick and violated an-and _angry_ that Hydra took a part of me and her, but at the same time… I’m happy that I have a daughter.” He buried his face in his hands. “How fucked up is that? Shouldn’t I just feel...”

But Tony shook his head. “I don’t think anyone can tell you how to feel about this, Steve. It’s fucked up what they did. To you, to her, no one can deny that. But you’ve got a kid and if you decide that you’re happy about that kid… far be it from any person in this compound to tell you you’re wrong.”

Steve lifted his head slowly and met Tony’s imploring gaze. A hesitant nod of assent drew a wry smile to the inventor's lips. With that, Tony clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed before walking away. 

Stark’s footsteps drummed at Steve’s brain as his eyes were once again drawn to the door handle. His hand entered his vision, having seemingly garnered a mind of its own as it reached for the handle. He drew back for a moment, heart pounding.

When he saw that little girl, he’d look at her knowing that she was his. The thought terrified him as much as it thrilled him. 

His fingers closed around the handle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please R&R so that I get some feedback! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Tell me what you thought, gives me motivation <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick update, Hallelujah! There is, unfortunately, a reason, though, that I worked so hard to get this chapter for y'all. I'm starting college on Thursday so my updates are going to start taking longer *cries*. This was an important chapter and I didn't want you guys to have to wait too long for it. Please enjoy!

He cracked the door open just enough to peer in. Steve’s heart dropped to his feet when he found the top of Madeleine’s bed lacking a specific child. The word ‘missing’ bounced around in his skull and shot a bolt of lightning into his heart. _God, Steve, three minutes in and you’ve already screwed this up too, haven’t you._ Already, scenarios raced through his mind: who had taken her, where she could be, how he could get her back. In his panic, he pushed fully through the doorway to find that if he’d looked only a foot further, he would not have panicked.

Steve clapped a hand over his chest in relief. At the foot of Madeleine’s bed, Steve found the child curled in the lap of a certain witch whose arms were wound securely around her. Wanda sat upright, eyes closed, and so still he’d think she was frozen in place if not for the steady rise and fall of her chest. 

Her posture was somehow what brought him back seventy years. During the war, he’d seen a lot of things, met a lot of people, but one thing that had stayed with him all the way throughout was the way that people slept. Wanda reminded the captain of a good deal of soldiers he had encountered. The captain could recall with utter clarity walking through camp late at night and catching glimpses of soldiers who finally were allowed the reprieve of sleep after seeing a battle. 

He had not understood it before he saw combat. The rigidity, the grimaces that marred their faces. Many times, he could recollect wondering if they were truly asleep at all. It was only after he’d first faced down an enemy in a gunfight that he knew why many of the men slept with their boots on, fingers only inches away from their gun.

The young Sokovian’s arms curled protectively around the little girl, her embrace surely soft and kind. But, her back was ramrod straight and her shoulders tense. Steve knew that her consciousness dangled on the precipice of waking and that she could wake at a moment’s notice. It was just one of the many things which spoke to how much Wanda had seen in her life. 

As Steve stepped in, Wanda’s eyes snapped open, darting about the room. When they located him as the source of the noise, her green eyes relaxed. She arched in a slight stretch and Steve looked down when the action called his eyes to the exposed column of her throat. For Wanda, the movement brought her attention to the little girl. She sucked in a breath.

“I’m so sorry, Captain.” Her voice was hushed as she glanced down at Madeleine. His brows furrowed at her apology. “I shouldn’t have… she was panicked when I woke and I just-”

Steve raised a placating hand. “Wanda, Wanda, you don’t need to apologize for helping her.” It was baffling to the captain how the young woman continuously found wrong in her every action when there was none. “But, your hip. All that weight on you can’t be good for it.”

“I’m fine, Captain.”

Steve was skeptical, but absentmindedly assented because he became distracted by the little girl in his teammate’s lap. Madeleine’s face was hidden in Wanda’s abdomen, but his eyes roved over her dirty blonde hair which trickled down her shoulders in light waves. It was a few shades lighter than his own and the bright lights of the room created a halo on the crown of her little head. He blew out a shaky breath

God, he couldn’t even see her face but she was beautiful.

Wanda felt the swell of emotion from Steve as he fixated on the little girl and she cocked her head, perplexed. The waves were so strong she caught the back half of it, but it was fairly different from the way he’d looked at her earlier. Yes, the fierce protectiveness was still there, but there was something stronger behind it now.

When Steve found her eyes on him, he knew she'd picked up on his emotions. He shot her a weak, watery smile, then once again trained his gaze on the little girl. Wanda felt the startling urge to run her thumb beneath his eye and wipe away the tear that sat precariously on the corner of his eye, to smooth the wrinkle on his forehead. Her lips twitched downward in confusion at the intrusive thought as she shook it from her mind. It was such an intimate image and the captain was her teammate. The two did not belong in the same thought space.

Wanda dismissed it as simply a reaction to his emotions. After all, it was not often that anyone would see the unflappable captain in such a vulnerable state and it worried her, really worried her because it meant that the man simply couldn't hide his duress. It was possible that her powers were somehow just responding to him. Wanda elected to ignore the fact that no such thing had ever happened since she got her powers.

The captain gingerly knelt before the bed, his eyes never leaving the sleeping child. He looked at her almost reverently as if he hadn’t ever seen her before. Bowing his head, the captain squeezed his eyes shut as if pained. 

“Madeleine.” The man’s voice rolled over the name like an embrace, like a whisper meant only for his own ears. Wanda wondered if she should look away. Her mind, though, latched onto the name he spoke.

“Madeleine,” she repeated softly, “that’s her name?”

Steve nodded, his breath coming out shaky. “Yeah, that’s her name.” His tone was incredulous and Wanda got the impression that Steve couldn’t quite believe it himself. The young woman took in the captain. Her eyes ran the length of his face and she realized with a start just how young he looked in that moment. The edges of his face, usually so hard with determination, were now softened with astonishment. With the mask of strength slid off his face, his standard composure dissolved, the captain looked little more than a lost young man. 

It was easy to forget what with his authoritative presence and all of Stark’s old man jokes, but Steve Rogers, minus his time in the ice, was still one of the youngest members of the team. His confidence, his command, and his strength betrayed the youth she now found. He didn’t look all that much older than her, she mused and, for the first time, she considered that Captain America was just as lost in this world as she.

Wanda had always found them expressive, his eyes. The rest of his body could conceal his every thought and feeling, but he never seemed to be able to manage the same with his eyes. As she studied them, she decided with certainty that something had indeed changed.

The witch opened her mouth, but bit back her question at the last second, trapping her lip between her teeth. _Leave it, it’s not your business._ She hoped her oversight was missed by the captain, but his ears picked up the hitch in her throat. He quirked a brow, the question present, but kind. 

Wanda pursed her lips and averted her eyes, however, refusing to let the words slip past her lips. But the captain elected not to wait for her to voice the query.

“I had thought that nothing could ever shake me more than waking up seventy years into the future.” He scoffed, seemingly at his own naivete. “Apparently I was wrong.”

Wanda had absolutely no clue what he was talking about and, evidently, the captain could tell because he went on. “The fight with Hydra always did feel personal to me. At first, maybe it was just because I was the figurehead of the American war effort and they were the bullies I’d been tasked with taking down, but then I died to take them out and, when they resurfaced, it felt like a kick in the ass. Then it turned out they brainwashed my best friend and now…” He trailed as he stared at Madeleine.

 _Now_ what? Thought Wanda. “Captain?” She probed hesitantly.

Steve looked at his shoes. “Don’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the line, Hydra got a hold of… some part of me I guess.” He laughed and it seemed so out of place, but Wanda could detect the pain that lay beneath. “They got a piece of me, yeah, and I guess I still don’t really understand how they did it--you’ll have to ask Banner--but somehow Hydra gave me everything I wanted in the worst way possible.”

If she hadn’t already had a feeling, Wanda wouldn’t have picked up what the captain couldn’t seem to force out of his mouth. Maybe she hadn’t known exactly what it was before, but her mind had churned when she’d seen him carrying the girl, had piqued when she’d seen the girl’s eyes. 

The witch’s lips parted as she filled in the spaces between his words. “She’s your…”

“Yeah,” the captain confirmed, “she’s mine.”

“Oh.” Wanda said dumbly. It was all she could manage to say in the moment, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Me too.” He agreed.

They sat in the quiet, ruminating on the proverbial atomic bomb that had just exploded all over their lives( _Steve’s life_ , she reminded herself). It seemed like the type of thing that would take time to sink in, to say the least.

Steve looked around. Out the window, at the dormant machines in the corners of the room, at the mussed bedsheets, but he always came back to Madeleine. Wanda could just about hear the war going on in his head between his heart and his mind. That did always seem to be the battle raging within the captain, Wanda had observed. Every so often, his fingers would twitch and clench like he longed to reach out for the girl she held, but he would stop himself with the reminder that this little girl was still a stranger to him. More importantly, _he_ was a stranger to _her_.

For four years, his daughter (and despite the foreignness of the thought, his heart jumped just a little in the confines of his chest) had known nothing but the faces of the bastards that had treated her like a laboratory experiment. He doubted she’d ever been shown kindness or love or affection, had ever known a soft touch that didn’t come alongside a sharp needle and a heart full of fear. Steve promised himself that she would never know anything like that again. He had missed four years of his daughter’s life, it didn’t matter if he had known about her or not, and he didn’t want to waste another second where he treated them as strangers. 

It wasn’t just up to him, though. He didn’t have half a clue how to tell Madeleine about their newfound familial connection. For one, he didn’t know if she’d understand. Would a four-year-old be able to grasp such a concept? More importantly, would a socially isolated, genetically abnormal four-year-old that had undergone untold amounts of trauma at the hands of homicidal cultists be able to grasp such a concept? That was the real and much more important question.

Wanda had begun to doze again when Madeleine woke, the warmth of the little girl in her lap lulling her. But her eyes popped open once more when the little one began to stir. Madeleine blinked owlishly at her surroundings. It was clear that she didn’t remember the past day when her blue eyes rounded at the unfamiliar room. Her thin legs kicked at the bed as she tried to propel herself backwards and a small cry erupted from her throat when she noticed that her seat was actually a person.

Steve immediately pulled himself to the edge of the bed. Gently, he grasped her small hands in his own, marveling at how perfect her ten little fingers felt in his. Eyes landing on his kind face, the little girl settled, glancing behind her to see Wanda’s familiar countenance. 

“Madeleine.” He cooed. Her little head turned sharply at the sound of her name and he met her with a kind smile. “c'est ton nom, non?” _That’s your name, right?_

Steve marveled at the big eyes that stared back at him. He felt as if all the air had been knocked from his lungs. They were his mother’s. They were his own. He truly didn’t know how he had not seen it before, but the longer he looked, the more he found little pieces of himself hidden in her features. It had started as a placating smile, but with every feature of hers that Steve catalogued (both those she shared with him and those she didn’t), it grew genuine. The lines of his face softened as he looked for the first time at his daughter.

Across from him, Wanda was wondering the same thing. Madeleine’s eyes were perfect mirrors of those of the man before her. Her long eyelashes brushed the apples of her cheeks in the same hypnotic sweeping motion. The curve of her nose followed his. You didn’t have to look hard to find the similarities. Though she supposed that the problem before had been that they didn’t know to look for anything.

“Oui.” Madeleine replied softly, shrinking shyly like a pretty violet. Wanda grinned involuntarily, the sweet little voice tugging at her heart.

Steve, it seemed, was experiencing much of the same, a breathless little laugh huffing from his chest. Madeleine surveys the room and he’s more than happy, if not a little relieved to give her a moment while he takes a few for himself because he’s just spoken to his daughter. Steve couldn’t tell if his breathlessness was from pure shock or happiness. _Maybe both?_ Absentmindedly, he wondered if it was too early for the word ‘adoration’ to come into play.

He watched as Madeleine’s gaze lingered on a pitcher of water resting on the table beside him and he knew Wanda caught the motion as well. “Avez-vous soif, Madeleine?” _Are you thirsty, Madeleine?_ He asked, gesturing to the table. He didn’t expect much; maybe a timid nod or a quiet ‘oui’, not whatever it was that came next.

The smile dripped off of Steve’s face at Madeleine’s response. Her face dropped and back straightened. The little girl snatched her hands back from his grasp as if she had been burned by him, and Steve felt a little colder for it. It was jarring to witness how quickly her body language took a turn. Steve wondered if maybe she had been expecting some kind of trick and that on its own was enough to break his heart. The resignation in her eyes, that was another thing. It spoke of a tiredness that was conditioned through disappointment and hurt and it appeared so unnatural on her young face.

“Mais je n'ai pas été testé.” _But I have not been tested._ She said suspiciously, eyeing him with distrust. Steve exchanged a look with Wanda. The latter could not understand their conversation but had seen the shift in Madeleine’s demeanor.

“Quel test?” _What test?_ The captain asked warily. He had a feeling that he didn’t want to know the answer.

“Avec les médecins.” _With the doctors._ She responded, eyebrows pulled down like she couldn’t believe he didn’t already know.

His breath caught and Steve was pretty sure he stopped breathing. They had made her work for her food and water like a dog would for treats. It was indescribable, the rage he felt when he thought of the sadistic bastards that had treated her like this and it was indescribable, the sadness he felt when he thought of the little girl before him in that situation. His arms sang with the urge to scoop her up and hold her close to him like he had when they’d first found her, to protect her from anything and anyone that ever looked at her funny, but Madeleine had had enough people taking and taking from her without asking and Steve refused to be another one. So he didn’t reach out for her. Instead, he reached to his left and silently poured a cup of water, the only sound in the room being the gentle trickle of liquid. Then he placed his hands on the edge of the bed where he knew Madeleine could see them. 

“Madeleine,” Steve said softly. The girl refused to meet his eyes and kept hers fixated on the white hospital bed sheets. But Steve needed her to know something very important. He whispered her name once more. Madeleine’s eyes lifted slowly, hesitantly, and when they met his, Steve knew without reservation that there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. Once he knew she was listening, he told her, hoping with all he had that she believed him, “si jamais tu veux quelque chose, tu ne dois rien faire d'autre que demander.” _if you ever want something, you never have to do anything but ask._

He reached to the table and grasped the plastic cup in his hand. He held it out to her. Madeleine’s gaze went from the cup to his face to the cup and back to his face again. Never taking her eyes off of his, she reached for the water, her two little hands closing around the sides. When it was in her hold, the child stared at the water, watching the clear liquid rock gently in its confines. 

“Pourquoi?” _Why?_ She mumbled it quietly to her cup.

 _What a vague question_ , Steve mused. But he supposed that it was a valid one and that she deserved to know the answer. How was he supposed to explain something he, himself, had barely grasped, though? ‘So, crazy story, but I’m your father and I just found out five minutes ago because really it shouldn’t be possible considering I was essentially still dead when you were conceived and I’ve never actually met your mother’. That probably wouldn’t go over well. 

When Steve didn’t respond, Madeleine glanced up at him and then back at Wanda, who had been silent the entire conversation. The witch looked back at the little girl helplessly, knowing that Steve had to be the one to explain. She did not envy him as she watched him struggle to find the words.

“Madeleine, je viens d'apprendre quelque chose.” _Madeleine, I have just learned something._ As unsure as he was, Wanda noticed, his voice remained as steady and reassuring as ever. That was Steven Rogers to a ‘T’, though: calm and steadfast through the most violent storms. And he had to be in order to lead a team of hurricanes like the Avengers. Like Wanda.

__

Madeleine perked up and Steve could tell she was intrigued. He pursed his lips, grasping clumsily for the right thing to say. “C'était une grosse surprise pour moi,” _It was a big surprise to me_ , he murmured, “et je ne sais pas trop comment le dire.” _and I’m not quite sure how to say it._

__

Madeleine eyed him and frowned impatiently. “Quoi?” _What?_ She pressed and Steve could have laughed at how much she reminded him of himself in that moment. That scrawny, sick kid who was so tired of people treating him like he was made of glass that it was almost a relief when some bully would push him over. At least then he wasn’t being coddled. Steve paled. _On second thought, I hope to God that she doesn’t take after me like that._

__

Steve exhaled through his nose, contemplating his next words. His lips pulled in a sad smile as he looked at her. Gently, he held out a hand for her. Misunderstanding his gesture, Madeleine placed her cup in his palm. Steve chuckled and shook his head affectionately. He set the water back on the table and offered his hand once more. Little fingers settled in his palm.

__

The captain grasped it as tightly as he dared without squeezing too much. He pleaded with her, mentally, to understand what he said next. “Madeleine…” Steve began. “Tu es ma famille. Je suis ton père.” _You’re my family. I’m your father._ He whispered it as he forced himself to look her in the eye.

__

Madeleine stilled and peered at him with eyes that were glowing with something that looked suspiciously like hope. “Mon père?” _My father?_ She asked, her voice barely audible even to his enhanced hearing. Swallowing hard, Steve nodded to her question. 

__

Madeleine smiled. She smiled and it was so beautiful that Steve took one look at her and realized he would never need anything again as long as he got her smile. With little grace, his daughter clamored off of Wanda’s lap and launched herself at him. Steve caught her with a shocked breath as Madeleine wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and clung. 

__

“Je savais que tu me trouverais.” _I knew you would find me_ , Madeleine whispered in his ear. Steve exhaled shakily and clenched his eyes shut, cradling the back of her head with his hand.

__

He would find out what she meant later: that the scientists at the Hydra base had mocked her, taunted her with his absence and told her that her father, Captain America, didn’t want her and that Madeleine never believed him (she would give a little shrug and inform him that they always lied). 

__

But all of that could wait for another time, another day. Because, at this moment, it didn’t matter. With his little daughter clinging to him fiercely and him holding her back just as tight; with Wanda watching on, a rare gentle smile on her lips that for some reason made him ridiculously content, Steve didn’t care what bully came around to knock him down. He didn’t care who came at him whether it was in the back-alleys of Brooklyn or the skies of New York because nothing, absolutely nothing could ever take away the joy that he felt right there, kneeling on the ground at the edge of a hospital bed that was too big for a little girl.

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reviews! I love those. I hope you guys liked this chapter, I'll try to get another one out as soon as I have free time again, but comments and suggestions always speed up my process *wink wink* <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry this update took so long, but I have not abandoned this story! Here's the next chapter.
> 
> I own nothing Marvel and all mistakes are mine :)

He supposed that raising a child wasn’t easy for any new parent. Steve had heard countless stories of newlywed couples bringing home an adorable newborn baby and then finding out that at night it turned into a little angel whose behavior was decidedly not matched to their nickname. That was one thing that hadn’t changed since the 40s.

Steve smiled fondly at the memory of Bucky’s older cousin. With Winnifred working sun-up to sundown to make their monthly payments, Judy, who was ten years older than the boys, was enlisted to corral Bucky and little Rebecca when their mother couldn’t. When Steve came around, her disapproving eyebrows turned on him too. She was always tutting at the bruises that Steve would be sporting when he came over and had even visited him once or twice when they thought that a particular bout with pneumonia would be his last.

When Steve was sixteen, Judy married a stern-looking fella, a real drip, and not long after was carrying a little thing around on her hip while swatting at Buck with a rolled-up dish towel in her free hand. He recalled once when baby Thom was only a few weeks old, Judy had come over to visit with Winnifred while Steve was there. Bucky’s mom had stolen the baby to coo over him for less than three minutes when Judy had already fallen asleep at the table. His ma had nearly walloped him through the window when Buck had attempted to bother his cousin awake.

His best friend had complained endlessly about his drooly nephew, but Steve knew he was always planning ways to teach Thom how to stir up trouble. Every other new word he learned was one his ma wanted to smack her cousin over the head for. Steve wondered briefly if the kid was still alive. Thomas Mitchell would be 81 years old right now.

So, Steve understood that raising a child was difficult for any parent and he would never say anything to diminish how hard they all worked to provide for their kids. But, still, he doubted that most other parents were raising a traumatized four-year-old who they had been dead for the conception of.

There wasn’t a reason to keep Madeleine in the medical wing any longer than the one day. The doctors had gathered that her enhanced healing saw to it that the only thing wrong with her was a bit of malnutrition. _But only a little bit. Hydra’s gotta keep their weapons in tip-top shape_ , Steve thought darkly.

The empty room between Steve and Wanda’s became Madeleine’s. It had initially been intended for Rhodey, but the colonel had opted to live off-site for his own sanity. So, when the head doctor gave Steve a kind nod of assent, he had knelt and explained quietly to Madeleine that he was taking her to a new room to stay in. She had said nothing, only stared at him blankly to the point that Steve didn’t know if she understood what he was talking about.

“Okay,” he breathed out as he stood, looking around, a little unsure how to proceed with their little moving day. A little hand popped into the corner of his vision. He followed it and the arm attached to the sight of Madeleine both arms stretched out to him, blue eyes settled on his face. A brief pause of shock was all Steve allowed himself before he reached down and lifted her to his chest.

Automatically, she clung to him with arms and legs with surprising strength. Steve cleared his throat a little as if to dislodge something from his airway. He was almost certain that the serum was the only barrier that kept his windpipe from collapsing under her grip. Maybe enhanced healing wasn’t the only thing his daughter got from him.

She tucked her head into his neck as she situated herself. Steve shifted his arms to support her weight and glanced down as she curled up contentedly like she’d known him her whole life -- her whole, four-year-long life -- and hadn’t met him just yesterday. He pulled fruitlessly at the clean, oversized hospital gown that she had been changed into the night before, trying to arrange it to keep her as warm as possible for their short trip to her room. As soon as Tony had unceremoniously announced the presence of Steve’s progeny in the tower to Pepper, the CEO had placed an order for a brand new wardrobe of child’s clothing. 

“Based on the measurements from the doctor’s scans,” she’d informed him sweetly when she had handed him a loaded plate of pasta for dinner the prior night. On the table next to him, she’d gently set down a smaller helping of the same meal on a colorful piece of plastic dishware made for a child. He’d made a mental note to ask JARVIS where it had come from later. Steve had smiled weakly, still settling with the idea that he was now responsible for another life and that life included the menial things like clothing and toys and toothbrushes. Pepper had quirked her lips sympathetically at him and slid past him to hand Wanda a plate as well. The Sokovian had accepted it with a hesitant hand and a quiet ‘thank you’ to which Pepper had responded with a kind smile. On her way out, her eyes had lingered softly on the sleeping little girl next to the captain, but she’d said nothing. Steve was grateful.

With Madeleine securely in his hold (really, Steve thought that she’d stay stuck to him whether or not he was holding her), he started toward the door. As he reached out to press down on the handle, her head popped up, clipping the edge of his chin. His teeth slammed together, but he was too busy panicking over the thought of a bruise forming beneath her hair to wince. 

Madeleine didn’t seem to care about the collision as she craned her neck to look over his shoulder. Steve rotated and she turned owlishly to keep her eyes where they were trained. He looked over at her and followed the path of her gaze to the bed on the other side of the room. Wanda, as if tugged by an invisible line, raised her head from her book to meet the identical pairs of eyes that had found her. She shrank under their scrutiny, a curtain of dark hair tumbling from its place behind her ear and obscuring part of her face.

Steve tried to smile reassuringly, but it came out a little lopsided. Something about Wanda threw him off balance, made him trip over every little crack and pebble in the proverbial road he was walking. Evidently, his face was just reflecting this particular quandary. When he moved to turn back to the door, an indignant squeak left Madeleine’s throat causing Steve to backpedal. He glanced down at her quizzically finding her still staring Wanda down.

If he didn’t know better, Steve would have thought Madeleine was the one with mind-reading abilities with how fixated she was on Wanda. The young woman in question shifted uncomfortably under the heavy gaze that felt about nine anvils too heavy for such a young child to be carrying, not knowing what the little girl wanted. 

“Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas?” _What’s wrong?_ Steve frowned.

Madeleine flicked her eyes to his face momentarily before looking back again. Her lips drew downward and the crease between her eyebrows deepened in displeasure as she continued to stare.

Wanda straightened in her seated position. “She’s...she wants to know why I am not leaving with you,” she relayed hesitantly to him, eyes flicking to her lap. Her expression was one of a person caught very off-guard. Steve settled in understanding. Wanda had explained falteringly, once, to the team how ‘shouting’ -- as she had quietly dubbed it -- worked, and that if they thought loudly enough, she would be able to hear it. She had apologized profusely for not being able to control it and rushed off as if already scolded for something she had yet to do. None of them had had the chance to assure her they didn’t blame her.

Madeleine was very clearly and pointedly shouting and Steve couldn’t blame the telepath for being unable to block her out.

He looked down at Madeleine. “Vous vous posez des questions sur Wanda?” _You’re wondering about Wanda?_ She turned to him, the hopeful glint in her eye answering his question. Steve spared a glance for the woman watching them carefully from her seat on the bed. “Elle reste pour que les médecins s'assurent qu'elle va bien. Elle peut rentrer bientôt dans sa chambre.” _She’s staying so the doctors can make sure she’s okay. She can go back to her room soon._

Wanda smiled tentatively at Madeleine when she glanced at her for confirmation, though she didn’t know exactly what she was confirming. The little girl seemed satisfied that Wanda was facing no injustice and curled back up and tucked her face away in Steve’s collar once more. The feather-soft hair tickled his neck as she shifted slightly in a way reminiscent of Steve’s cat from the 40s.

Well, Dolly had belonged to his elderly neighbor, but more often than not the scruffy thing could be found staring through the grimy window of his bedroom, meowing pointedly until he let her in. The old thing had nearly killed him a couple times. Allergies. Steve doubted she would have cared, though.

Wanda’s eyes were still resting on the pair of them, expression undecipherable. If Steve hadn’t already trusted her, he’d have feared that she was in his head again. But Wanda wasn’t reading him -- not with her powers, at least. Madeleine settled in his arms, Steve nodded to the witch, a miniscule incline of his chin. The movement shattered whatever trance had held her, and Wanda dropped her gaze.

“Feel better, Wanda,” he intoned lowly. Her green eyes slid to his, a whispered ‘thank you’ was received, and the door clicked shut.

He exited into the hall and found it devoid of any people. He didn’t think much of it, the hallways of the medical wing were always pretty quiet unless one of the team got themselves blown up -- by Hydra or by Stark -- so nothing seemed out of the ordinary. But no one could be seen outside of the wing either. None of the usual agents were bustling about carrying files or unstable weapons prototypes and Steve knew the barren halls weren’t merely a coincidence. If he had to, he’d bet on either Pepper or Nat.

On the walk over, Steve was hyper focused on every little thing. Things that he’d never had to think about before. First it was his grip that he feared was too tight. The only thing he was used to holding was his shield, and Steve felt like that barely counted since most of the time it was actually being flung through the air. She seemed so fragile, breakable. Then it was his gait. What if he jostled her too much and she hit her head on his shoulder? 

Steve’s next step was more gentle and undoubtedly ridiculous-looking.

He had never questioned his own body so much, not since he first got the serum. It felt like he had just stepped out of the vita-ray chamber again, hands too big, legs too long, and veins humming with something he’d never had before: power.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Showing Madeleine the room was a quiet event. But not the quiet that was actually quiet, more like the quiet that was so quiet that it actually sounded like an active war zone filled with thousands of screeching aliens being controlled by Thor’s brother.

That kind of quiet.

Steve walked them into the spacious room. In any other home, each step he took in a room like this, one that had never been lived in, would have kicked up clouds of dust motes. But, this was the Avenger’s compound, a building designed by Tony Stark himself. In the man’s own words, “Dust isn’t really something we do here.”

“C'est ta chambre,” _This is your room,_ he told Madeleine. Bending low, he set her feet on the softly carpeted ground so that she could explore. Instead, the little girl plastered herself to the back of his leg, eyes wide and suspicious. Steve frowned and placed a gentle hand on her back, murmuring. “Madeleine, ça va.” _It’s okay._

Unsure of where to start, he took sight of the closet in the far corner of the room and suggested lightly that they go look at her clothes. He tried not to think about just how much the entirety of the closet had cost. Steve wasn’t stupid, he new money wasn’t an object to someone like Stark, who had funds that the captain couldn’t begin to comprehend, and that Pepper would have ordered nothing but the best for Madeleine. But Steve had grown up during the depression and, contrary to what most people in this century seemed to think (including all of his friends), he couldn’t just shake off everything he’d learned growing up -- or as Stark had put it, his “fear of money”. Tony still liked to tease him about the look on his face when Clint told him how much the StarkPhone in his pocket typically cost.

Steve couldn’t help it. It was how they had survived when he was growing up -- how everyone had survived, but especially Steve and his mother because of how much his minimal medication had cost them. His clothes were worn until threadbare and every grocery trip was stretched as far as possible.

But back to the clothes. With the slightest tip of his body in that direction, a wounded whine leapt from Madeleine. He halted immediately as hands scrabbled for a hold at the fabric of his pants, distressed cries eking out of her mouth. 

Steve swept her up quickly and she latched on tightly, tighter than before. Her head whipped back and forth at a speed with a force that would give most people whiplash. He tried to follow her movement, to catch sight of what had frightened her so much, but it seemed that it was the whole room. Her manic eyes scanned every inch of the walls as her tiny abdomen expanded and shrank rapidly against Steve’s chest.

And it was then as he looked around at the lightly colored walls that he remembered the cold white enclosure of her cell. He remembered the wisps of crimson that had leaked from between the metallic panels as Wanda disabled the locks. _Except it wasn’t just the locks, was it?_ Wanda hadn’t just unlocked the door to Madeleine’s prison, she had also worked her scarlet through the walls, the floor, the ceiling of the cell to pull apart what was hidden behind the white panels. And that’s what Madeleine was afraid of.

His breath faltered when the next puzzle piece locked into place. Wanda had known about the traps and the devices in the walls because Wanda had once been held within those walls. She didn’t just know about them, she was familiar.

He ran his hand in what he hoped were soothing circles along her back. “Shh,” he breathed slow and long, an echo of the memory of someone doing the same for him so long ago. It was all he could think of. Steve was so in over his head here. He didn’t have a hint of a clue about how to help her, if that wasn’t already evident, but Sarah Rogers had been the best parent a kid could ever ask for, and he figured he couldn’t go wrong following her lead. But how could he show her there was nothing to be afraid of? (The answer was that he couldn’t. There would always be things to be afraid of.)

Steve’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. He opened his mouth to call out to JARVIS, but amended it quickly. “JARVIS, please don’t respond to me, but I need you to send a message.” It probably wouldn’t help Madeleine’s fear to have a disembodied voice coming from the walls of her room. “Can you please ask Clint to come here?” After a second of thought, he added, “And tell him to come through the door, no vents.”

Dead air was his response, but Steve assumed that JARVIS was relaying the request to whatever vent Clint was taking a nap in.

Madeleine had ceased her trembling, but hiccups still rocked her body as she eyed the room through tears.

“Madeleine, tu es en sécurité ici,” _You are safe here_ , he murmured into her hair. His large hand dwarfed the back of her head as he pulled her close, the warmth of her small form in his hold bringing an unexpected lump to his throat. Steve swallowed thickly. “Je ne laisserai personne te blesser.” _I won’t let anyone hurt you._ And the promise was one he intended never to break.

Steve sat down on the bed, still holding Madeleine close to his chest. She tensed when her toes brushed the soft comforter. He cajoled her with a “ça va” _it’s okay_ as she peeked out from her hiding place in his collar. When he was certain she was looking, he placed his hand on the fluffy comforter and stroked it back and forth to show her that it wouldn’t hurt her. After watching him with intent eyes, her small hand came down next to his. Her hand faltered, but brushed the blanket gently, like petting a kitten. Madeleine watched, entranced, as the down of the blanket followed the path of her fingertips.

She sat up in his lap and pressed against the spongy bed with her toes, perplexed when it sprang back at her. Steve took the opportunity of her distraction to take in the rest of the room. He needn’t have because the layout was almost identical to his own. The position of the bathroom, the TV on the opposite wall, and the gigantic bed that made even Steve feel a little small, meaning that it probably looked like a helicarrier to Madeleine. 

His musings were interrupted by a light knock at the door that preceded Clint’s head popping in. Barton wasn’t one to knock before entering (dropping from the ceiling was more his style), so Steve knew this was purely for Madeleine’s benefit.

The archer stepped in quietly, smiling to Madeleine as she eyed him warily. Steve had asked after Clint because, for all his quirks, he was the only Avenger with children and the captain knew he would know how to act around Madeleine.

“Cap,” the man nodded, “is this Madeleine?”

Steve smiled over his daughter’s head, a strained pull of his lips at the other man who didn’t react but with a sympathetic glint in his eye. “Yeah it is. Madeleine, c'est mon ami, Clint.” _This is my friend, Clint._

Clint crouched low to meet her eye level and gave her a cheeky smile. “Hey Madeleine, it’s nice to meet you.” Steve translated the message quietly. Madeleine shifted, but did not respond. Clint hadn’t expected her to, though.

“Whatcha need my help for, Steve?” He turned his attention back to his friend. A grim line on his lips, Steve explained the situation to Clint, who’s eyes hardened with every sentence. By the time the captain had trailed off, the other man looked positively murderous in every way that his training would allow him. Which was to say, he looked just as calm as before to anyone who hadn’t worked with him long enough to be able to tell. So Steve could see it, but Madeleine was none the wiser.

After Steve finished speaking, Clint nodded silently for a moment before standing up. “Okay, I think I know what we can do.” He looked to the captain for permission, who nodded trustingly despite not knowing what was coming. Clint could feel Madeleine’s eyes on his back as he approached one of the walls in the room.

Every muscle in her little body wound impossibly tighter with every step Clint took. When he placed the first hand on the wall, she flinched, expecting a spark of electricity or a hiss that preceded the cell door opening. But none came. She turned to look at Steve, but he was already watching her with steady, kind eyes that made her feel safe.

Steve spoke to Madeleine as Clint placed his other hand on the wall, telling her that nothing would hurt her. At this point, Steve thought he had gotten a pretty good idea of what the other man was doing. He expected him to continue around the room to show her, concretely, that there was nothing in the walls. So, it took him by surprise when Clint starfished his entire body across the wall.

Steve jumped in tandem with his daughter as his teammate splayed himself on the wallpaper and sidestepped along the length of it. It was bizarre, even for Barton, and the captain sat with an incredulous countenance as his friend did...whatever it was he was doing.

Movement by the door distracted him temporarily, a flash of red through the crack. 

“Romanoff,” he called quietly, knowing she could hear. The redhead materialized in the doorway as she seemed to do everywhere. Her partner paused his strange actions at her entrance. Madeleine was focused on the new addition to the room. “Nat, this is Madeleine.” He repeated the introduction for his daughter.

Natasha smiled at the little girl and it was a genuine smile, not like the secretive ones she often employed when dealing with the team. Those were becoming less and less frequent, though. It was the same smile he recalled seeing her don when playing with the Barton children.

“Je suis ravie de vous rencontrer, Madeleine,” _I’m so glad to meet you, Madeleine,_ she said warmly to the girl in rolling French. The girl’s head tipped cutely at the sound of her native language and Steve cracked a muted grin at the motion. When Nat met her partner’s eyes he pointedly plastered himself to the wall once more to resume his demonstration. Nat quirked a sharp eyebrow at her partner, but didn’t miss a beat as she walked up to the desk and pulled open every drawer and poked every button on the lamp for Madeleine to see, though she was much too dignified to take up Clint’s method.

Steve warmed in appreciation for his teammates, his family, who had rallied behind him for support. However unorthodox their methods, the captain knew they were looking out for him and would extend that to Madeleine. He chuckled as Clint accidentally smacked his elbow against the desk.

The archer yelped. “Ah! Shi-irt! Shirt, I said shirt.” The man blundered as he looked at Madeleine, as if to see if she had caught his slip up. Natasha rolled her eyes, unaffected by her partner’s graceless nature. Clint could shoot down an enemy from 200 feet away while blindfolded if they were on a mission, but Steve would be damned if the assassin didn’t find every stick and rock to trip over otherwise.

Madeleine shuddered in his lap and Steve’s brows creased. He had hoped this would help her. Not that he expected her to just up and get over the hurdle all in one day, but he had thought… She shook again in his hold and the captain started in concern. He leaned forward, careful not to jostle her, and peered down at her face.

A little smile spread her lips, showing off a few white baby teeth as she shook in silent giggles at the funny adults. Steve exhaled sharply at the sight. She had smiled at him yesterday (much to his surprise) when he had told her that he was her father, but somehow it was like seeing it for the first time all over again. Even though it was a quiet, little laugh, the way it made him feel was indescribable. Her little eyes crinkled at the corners and glimmered with laughter. 

He watched her, entranced by her happiness. Steve marveled at his daughter and the pure innocence she radiated despite what she had been through. A smile stretched across his lips (and Nat would tell him later that the two of them smiled exactly the same) and suddenly he had hope. He hadn’t known before if they would be okay. Steve had been afraid that what Hydra had done would always be there, lurking over their shoulders and casting a shadow over their life. 

It would leave scars, if not for her then for him, he was sure of it. But now, as Steve looked at his daughter, whose eyes were unburdened by the weight they had carried just minutes ago, he caught a glimpse of a happy future. By all accounts Madeleine had the right to remain distrustful for the rest of her life and yet, she didn’t. Instead, she stood up and laughed through the foggy darkness and, maybe it was just Steve, but it was like Madeleine was pushing back, rebelling against Hydra. 

His daughter was strong, Steve realized. She was an underdog, had certainly been dealt a shitty hand in life, but she fought back. 

It should have felt alien, the bubbling swell in Steve’s chest. He had barely known her for a day, but it seemed his heart had accepted Madeleine the moment he laid eyes on her. It consumed him, the astonishment that hummed through him. Clint smiled knowingly at him, as if he could tell what was going through his friend’s mind at that moment -- and he probably could. 

It shone through his eyes and every cell in his body seemed to scream with his pride, a father’s pride in his daughter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started college this past month so I've been trying to navigate all that recently. I'll try to update soon but whatever reviews, comments, suggestions you have will definitely give me the motivation I need. Hope you enjoyed <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeek, friends I’ve made a mistake. In the earlier chapters, I managed to remember that post-Age of Ultron the tower’s AI was FRIDAY and not JARVIS, but I seem to have forgotten recently. For the sake of the fact that I always liked JARVIS better, we’re going to pretend that Tony just reset him or something and ignore the fact that JARVIS and Vision have the same voice :)
> 
> Here's an extra long chapter to make up for the long wait. Hope you enjoy!

The next few weeks were a steep learning curve for everyone in the tower. 

As you were bound to get with a group of not what you would call ‘average’ adults living in close quarters, the Avengers Compound was as lively a place you could find. A perplexing phenomenon, really: you bring together a group of adults, and what do you know? Instead of the capable, skilled people they usually are, you get five-year-olds.

It wasn’t that there were never lulls in activity or quiet moments, it was that the longer and quieter the calm moments were, the louder you knew the next event would be. Like a rubber band pulling, pulling, pulling until it snapped back against your finger. After two weeks was typically when Steve would start hiding away in his room in case the explosion from Tony’s lab reached the common area.

The day Madeleine arrived, there was a palpable shift in the compound. It was as if JARVIS had somehow managed to turn the knob for ‘intensity’ down from ‘extreme’ to ‘mild’. The presence of a child turned them back into adults (for the most part) and the result was the most relaxing few weeks Pepper Potts had ever experienced.

Steve, on the other hand, wondered if this was what Pepper had felt like running after the lot of them for the past couple of years.

Madeleine didn’t sleep well -- something they probably should have seen coming what with the obscene amount of geniuses amongst them. The first couple nights, Steve took up residence in the large armchair adjacent to her bed. He had no clue what normal protocol was for this type of thing, if there was a normal protocol. (Protocol? Is that what it was called?) Whatever it was didn’t matter because the moment Steve even thought about turning toward the door, Madeleine would fix him with a look that meant tears were imminent. So he didn’t move.

He’d pull the chair up to the side of the bed, the enormous bed, and Madeleine would curl up so close to the edge he feared that if he breathed too hard it would send her tipping. Like all new parents, Steve didn’t sleep. It wasn’t for the same reasons, seeing as Madeleine was well past the stage of 3 a.m. feedings and diaper changes, but the fact didn’t change that he couldn’t rest his eyes for more than a few minutes without waking again.

Every time he shut his eyes, he saw Madeleine being dragged off by some faceless Hydra agent from right under his nose or heard a phantom creak of the floorboards in the hallway (he knew the noises weren't real because the compound didn’t have floorboards) or simply imagined that Madeleine wasn’t real and he was just dreaming her up.

Each time he jolted awake, he feared she wouldn’t be there. 

The first night was the worst. Steve’s restlessness made him paranoid. He’d try to sleep, wake himself up, scan the room. Sleep, wake up, scan the room. Eventually he got up and tucked Madeleine’s blanket tighter around her chin. He thought he’d patrol the floor, make a loop or two just for his own piece of mind, but he didn’t make it through the first before rushing back to make sure she was still there.

So he repeated his cycle of sleeping, waking, scanning. And when the captain was finally settled enough and felt his eyelids begin to slip lower, Madeleine shot up in bed, a cry on her lips. The sound bit off halfway through, the empty syllables echoing loudly. Little whimpers escaped with each exhale, like she was holding back sobs with every breath. 

Steve sat up and instinctively reached for her. His finger had barely brushed the fabric of her nightshirt when she promptly flung herself backward with a kick to his bicep. Steve pulled back, his arm aching momentarily from the impact. If he hadn’t been so panicked, he would have been proud that she’d probably managed to land a few decent hits on those Hydra bastards, but as it was, he had other things on his mind.

He sat back in his chair and asked Jarvis to bring up the lights. He laid his hands, palms up, on his knees as the lights rose to a dim glow that glinted off the thin trails of tears on Madeleine’s cheeks. Steve whispered her name soothingly over and over. She lay curled with her arms over her head protectively and he watched on helplessly as he grasped for what he could possibly do to help her. 

He repeated her name, asked her to look up at him. _You’re safe_ , he’d said, _no one will hurt you_. She’d lifted her head. Madeleine had looked around as if seeing the room for the first time. And slowly, so slowly, the tension slipped from her body and her shoulders relaxed. She’d inched back to the edge of the bed drawing closer to him with every move. She’d looked up at him through big blue that were swimming with tears that he wished he could just wave his hand and make disappear. But he couldn’t, no one could.

She would have to claw her way through the nightmares if she was going to come out on the other side and it broke Steve’s heart to think of her, so little, fighting to keep her head above the water when all he could do to help was reach a hand out and hope she grabbed on. Nightmares didn’t care how old you were, how big you were. 

Steve had lifted his hand and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks. The pad of his thumb brushed rhythmically against her soft cheek. Madeleine leaned into her father’s comforting touch and the hypnotic motion lulled her back to sleep, head pillowed on his palm. He guided her down gently to the pillows, unwilling to risk disturbing her peace -- something she’d been left wanting for her entire life. As he pulled his hand back, she followed for a moment, searching for the soothing touch.

Almost like he was tugged by a string, Steve reached back once more and softly brushed away the wispy hairs that swept across her eyes. An airy smile pulled at his lips as he looked at her. Then he sat back and watched over her.

Sleep didn’t come for Steve that night.

After three nights of this and what was likely JARVIS ratting him out to the team, the rest of the Avengers managed to convince their captain to sleep in his own bed. Steve had shrugged off Tony’s rambling about how he was the only member of the team allowed to make terrible decisions regarding sleep and waved away the statistics Vision spouted at him, but when they sent in the big guns, he knew it was time to sit down and listen. 

There was no one that Steve was guaranteed to back down to on any given day, he was too bull-headed for that. Even Buck and his ma couldn’t make him quit something when he set his mind to it; Buck would just save his sorry ass and bring him back for his ma or Winifred to patch him up with a sigh after a fight. But when Natasha let him know something, Steve would always hear her out -- he wouldn’t necessarily agree, but he’d consider it.

That’s not to say that he didn’t trust the rest of his team. Each of them had his trust in some way or shape, but a word from Nat was not something that he could ignore. It was rare that she spoke up -- Nat made sure he knew she always had his back -- but that’s why when she questioned one of his calls, he knew he had to listen.

She’d caught him on his way out of his room -- he’d left Madeleine only momentarily to shave and wash up -- and ignored the sound of his protests as she pushed him backwards.

“You’re running yourself into the ground. Barton says he managed to surprise you in the kitchen yesterday -- and it wasn’t even on purpose, JARVIS says you’ve clocked a total of three hours of sleep over the past three days, and to top it all off, you look like shit,” Natasha deadpanned, arms crossed. “You need to rest.”

Steve scrubbed a hand over his face tiredly, trying to ignore how hard it was to open his eyes each time he blinked. “I’m fine, Nat.”

“No, you’re not, Steve, and we can all tell. Which is how we know how tired you are. No one can ever tell when you’re tired because your ridiculous serum hides it pretty damn well.” She shot back.

He contemplated dismissing the conversation, but paused when he caught the concern beneath her disinterested mien. She wouldn’t be coming to him with this if she wasn’t serious. He sighed. “I’m listening.”

Nat nodded. “You can’t keep going like this, Steve. I know that you can go for stupid amounts of time without rest, but it isn’t without its costs. You don’t react the same way as we do, but you still slow down. And that’s dangerous, not only for you but for the team _and_ for Madeleine. We don’t know if HYDRA will come after her or who’s going to come at us next. And we don’t know when.” Steve gritted his teeth because she was playing on his weak spots and she knew it. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. “You need to sleep. In a bed. We have to figure out something different.” Later, he would come to appreciate her use of the word ‘we’.

He looked up and squeezed his eyes shut. “I can’t, Nat. I hear you, I know that what you’re saying is…” Steve exhaled deeply from his nose, “but every time I close my eyes I see someone taking her and every time I catch a minute of sleep I hear her crying. What if she needs me and I’m not there?”

His teammate shook her head with a wry smile. “That’s why your room is right next to hers, Steve, and why we have JARVIS to tell you if there’s something wrong. Steve, we all know there’s not a wall in the world that you couldn’t bust through if you needed to get to her. It’s been four days and everyone knows you’d do anything for that kid- and if,” Nat cuts him off before he can reply, “somehow, there ever was an impossible situation where you couldn’t get through, that’s why you have a team. To have your back, Steve.”

Her words pressed into him and sunk into his bones. They stayed there long after the conversation was over and nipped at his mind all day until it was time to sleep again. When he had Madeleine tucked into her covers, Steve reluctantly explained that he would be going to sleep in his own room that night. He tried to add reassuringly that his room was right next to hers -- even carried her out to the hall to show her just how close they were -- and that he could be here or she could be over there if she needed him, but her big eyes were forlorn and Steve knew that, to her, this felt like a betrayal.

He stayed with her until she fell asleep, an even harder feat this particular night. Each time Madeleine’s eyes would drift closed, they would pop open again to find him. After a long fight, she finally succumbed to a fitful slumber. Steve tucked the covers securely under her chin and laid a faltering kiss on the crown of her head. He left the door cracked open on his way out.

His bed, which he knew was made of the highest quality material and fit for royalty, felt no different than the floor of a tent miles into enemy territory. He slept no better than he would have there, either. Two hours passed by before Steve managed to calm his mind into a rest, but even then he dangled on the precipice of consciousness. If someone dropped a pin in California, it would be enough to rouse the captain.

So when JARVIS woke him, two hours after his breathing had steadied, Steve shot up with a sharp gasp. “Madeleine?” he mumbled, stumbling out of his bed.

“Miss Charpentier is safe, Captain Rogers, but she is in a state of distress,” the AI informed him. Steve made for the door, nearly tripping over the bedsheets tangled around his ankle. “I should notify you before you go, Captain, that Miss Charpentier is beneath the bed.”

“The bed?” he questioned. Steve clamored into the hallway, startling Wanda who was halfway out of her own door. She jumped, pressing a hand to her chest. “Wanda,” he breathed, surprised.

The young woman had been released from the hospital the day before on orders to take it easy for the next two weeks, at least. Steve had only caught a glimpse of her in the hallway. To be fair, though, he hadn’t seen much of anyone on the team recently. 

“Captain,” Wanda brushed an errant lock of hair out of her face nervously, “I was just… making sure everything was alright.” 

Steve paused to take a breath and processed what she was saying. “You, uh, you could hear her?” He gestured to the door. 

She nodded hesitantly, as if wary of his reaction. “Yes, it was quite… loud for me. I’m sorry, I just wanted to be sure but I-um, I should go back…”

He shook his head. “No, no Wanda it’s…” he let his arm drop from where he had reached out to her and took a deep breath. “You have nothing to be sorry for, Wanda, you didn’t do anything wrong.” Steve caught at her eyes and looked at her imploringly. For a long moment, he thought she might try to disagree again, but finally, she conceded with a slow nod. 

He placed a hand on the handle of the door and went to enter the room before turning back. “Wanda,” he called lightly. The young woman, who was nearly inside her own room stepped back and looked at him, “thank you for checking on her.” Steve tried to pour in all the sincerity he could, to impart upon her that he was grateful for her.

She appeared taken aback. “Of course, Captain.”

He shot her a dry smile. “It’s Steve, Wanda.” Her answering smile was placating at best.

Steve entered the darkened room and asked JARVIS to raise the lights. The dim glow bathed the room warmly. Just as JARVIS had said, Madeleine was not _in_ her bed, but beneath it. His enhanced hearing could pick up the hushed breathing from underneath the giant mattress. Steve kneeled quietly on the carpeted floor and called out to her. “Madeleine?” 

She did answer, but a light hitch in the air told him she’d heard.

He peered beneath bed and found her huddled against the wall on the other side. For a moment he was back in that awful HYDRA cell finding her for the first time, coaxing her out from under the metal cot. Steve shook the memory off before it could grow roots. 

“Madeleine, c'est juste moi,” _it’s just me_ , he murmured. He didn’t know what to call himself at this point; ‘dad’ seemed strange after having known her for only a few days -- he didn't want to force that on her, but it seemed even stranger to have her call him by his name. “Ça va” _It’s okay_. But he could worry about that another day. He sat back up, not wanting to crowd her.

A quiet shuffling came from underneath the bed, preceding a tumble of blonde waves that peeked out. In the raised light of the room, she appeared to check his face, to make sure it was him, before clamoring out and into his lap. 

Steve ran his hand down her back in a calming gesture, shushing her lightly as she clung. He just allowed her to be held for a moment, to calm her heart. Madeleine settled after a few minutes, but kept her tear-streaked cheeks hidden in his chest.

“Avez-vous fait un cauchemar, ange?” _Did you have a nightmare, angel?_ The endearment slipped out of his mouth naturally and he couldn’t bring himself to regret it. He mused that it was a fitting name as he watched the dim light glint off her hair like a glowing halo. Steve ran his large hand down the pattern of little birds that adorned the back of the soft flannel pajamas he had found in her dresser. A minute nod rubbed her cheek against the material of his shirt. He hummed sympathetically. 

Steve glanced down at her tiny figure and was reminded of when he would cling to his mother this way, when he was young. He could remember a few instances from when he was just a little older, maybe five or six. When he was that small, he’d shared a bed with his ma so they didn’t have to buy another bed. She would shush him soothingly, run her fingers through his hair and hold him as she hummed a lullaby.

He wished Madeleine didn’t feel like she had to hide when she was afraid, to try and protect herself. He knew he had told her that she could come to his room if she needed him, but maybe she didn’t understand or didn’t think she was allowed. 

“Pourquoi n'es-tu pas venu dans ma chambre?” _Why didn’t you come to my room?_ Steve questioned lightly, making sure it didn’t sound accusatory. “Tu te souviens que tu peux venir me voir?” _Remember you can come to me?_

She whined against his shirt and turned toward the doorway. Steve frowned and ran his fingers down her hair. Madeleine stared at the ajar door with trepidation. “Sombre,” _Dark_ , she said simply.

Steve breathed in understanding and mentally chastised himself for not thinking of that before. To him, the distance to his room might seem like a few steps away, but to Madeleine, the hallway was dark and unfamiliar. Those ten feet must have looked like a thousand. He would have to figure out a way for her to get to him

“Je suis désolé, Madeleine,” _I’m sorry_ , he intoned. “Voulez-vous venir avec moi?” _Do you want to come with me?_

She nodded frantically against his shoulder. 

“Okay.” Steve secured her in his hold and stood, Madeleine on his hip. 

The door of his bedroom still hung ajar from his frenzied exit. The pair slipped in and Steve shut the door quietly behind them. He set his daughter down on the bed and then reached to right the sheets he had strewn across the floor in his haste to get up. By the time he had rearranged the linens, Madeleine was sat up at the headboard, perched against pillows which were practically the size of her and watching him with attentive eyes.

He reached over and held up the end of the comforter. At his prompting, she snuggled down under the blanket until she was swimming in fabric. Steve climbed into the bed, settling in and then turning to face her. Her big blue eyes peeked back as she studied him. A drowsy sheen had taken over her eyes and Steve watched as her face scrunched in a mewling yawn. Her eyelids were drooping now and each blink appeared to take more effort than the last. He couldn’t help the fond chuckle that escaped him at the frankly adorable sight.

“Va dormir, mon ange,” _Go to sleep, my angel_ , Steve whispered to Madeleine. Like it had been a demand, her eyes fluttered shut at his words. “JARVIS?” The lights dimmed until it was pitch black. The calm silence of the room was disturbed by the rustling of sheets as the extra lump under the cover of his bed suddenly shifted. A little leg kicked Steve in the shin as Madeleine swam in the sheets to her new spot. Like a hot water bottle, Madeleine was a small furnace as she snuggled up against his side, but Steve didn’t mind. With a content smile, the captain reached down and ran his hand over her mussed hair sweetly. 

His world had never felt more peaceful than it did in that moment. That night, sleep arrived easily.

The next morning at breakfast, a ruckus had just about reached the point of tipping into a full blown food fight between Clint and Tony when Steve appeared in the doorway, an extra guest perched alert on his hip. Clint lowered the omelet he had been ready to hurl and Sam’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. A brief beat of silence passed as the room recovered from the shock of their entry.

“Hey guys,” Steve greeted with an amused grin, “mind if we join you for breakfast?”

Tony, who was able to talk himself both into and out of most situations was the first to respond with a quip, though it was milder than usual. “Been waiting for you two, Capsicle, but I hope she doesn’t eat as much as you do, or we may have a problem.” 

Steve rolled his eyes good-naturedly, but shot a thankful smile at his friend. “Not quite as much, but she may give Sam a run for his money,” he joked back.

The man in question straightened with a look of mock-seriousness. “Oh yeah? Well looks like little Miss Madeleine and I are just gonna have to have a lil’ competition when she feels up to it,” he challenged playfully. At the sound of her name, the only word that she recognized, Madeleine lifted her head from Steve’s collar and glanced at Sam before shyly ducking away again.

Madeleine had met each of the Avengers at least in passing over the last three days. Each of them seemed nice and the man named Sam’s smile was kind like her daddy’s, but if there was one thing she’d learned in her short life, it was that nobody could be trusted. Her father’s chest rumbled lowly against her ear as he spoke to the grown-ups in that language she couldn’t understand. Almost nobody.

There were two people that Madeleine knew were safe for certain in her young mind. One was her dad and she knew he was safe because he protected her and he was warm and had kind eyes. The other reason she knew he was safe was because the doctors that used to hurt her _hated_ her daddy. She used to hear them talk about him sneeringly, practically spitting with disgust when they’d learned that the brat’s (Madeleine knew that meant her) father had killed Alexander Pierce. She had even known his name, _Steven_ , before. From the moment she learned about him, Madeleine had known he must be good, simply by virtue of the fact that HYDRA hated him.

The other person she thought was safe, she was a little less sure about. Wanda had been with her dad when he found her and had helped him take her away from the doctors, but that wasn’t what made her safe. When Madeleine had had a nightmare, the first day after she had been found, Wanda had held her. It was strange and a little scary at first. No one had ever comforted her after a nightmare, the doctors had only yelled and hit her. And the only person who had held her aside from her dad (though she hadn’t known it was him at that point) was Eleonore, her mother; but Eleonore’s stiff embraces were cold and made Madeleine want to go back under her bed. But Wanda had been warm, her embrace soft, and Madeleine knew when she sang to her that Wanda would not hurt her.

“You know she can’t understand you, right Wilson?” Natasha smirked, seated on the counter. The atmosphere had settled from its chaotic state, but there was still a playful hum in the air. Steve sat down at the table, Madeleine in his lap. Clint handed him a large plate of breakfast and then pulled out another one of those plastic children’s plates from the cupboard to serve some food for Madeleine. 

Tony saw him eyeing the little plate curiously. “Pep had someone run out to buy a bunch of kids stuff when I told her about Little Capsicle. Also, Romanoff is right, Tweety, Tiny can’t understand a word out of your mouth. Luckily for all of us, I’m now a genius in all things science, technology, Pepper, _and_ children so I know that at her age she should have a pretty easy time picking up English,” Tony gloated, a touch of mania in his eyes.

“And how do you figure that?” Pepper walked in, looking impeccably well put-together as always next to the pajama-clad bunch of superheroes. “Also, if you think I’ve gotten over the strawberries, I really haven’t. Good morning, everyone.” She regarded the room with a warm smile, saving the kindest for Steve and the little one in his arms.

“I took an online course on child development and now I know everything,” he proclaimed assuredly.

“When did you have the time to do that?” Clint raised an eyebrow.

“Last night.” Tony popped a piece of bacon into his mouth. “I’ve absorbed the content of the entire textbook. If you gave me two cookies and a toothbrush, I could create the next President of the United States.”

“She’s a child, Tony, not a machine,” Pepper chastises wryly.

Tony shrugged like the fact was inconsequential. “Still, not everyone can get through those courses as fast as I can. I suggest we start a book club. Saw an advertisement for _Child-rearing for Dummies_ the other day. We can read that together, share notes.” He promptly yelped as Natasha pinched his arm. Tony looked to Pepper for help but she fixed him with her ‘you brought that on yourself’ look.

The room had just settled into a low murmur of side conversations when another somewhat unexpected guest entered. Steve watched as Wanda slipped through the doorway in that floating way she always seemed to, like her toes barely brushed the ground. The young woman stopped in surprise at the sight of the group, like she hadn’t expected them to be in the kitchen.

“Wanda,” Clint greeted, warm surprise in his voice. Madeleine’s head popped up when she heard the name. “Hey, Kiddo.” Everyone else did a pretty good job of concealing their stunned expressions at her appearance, but Wanda knew they must be pretty taken aback. The young witch never joined them for breakfast, even though she had been invited by all of them at one point or another.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here.” Wanda flushed under the attention.

Bruce frowned. “Why’s that?” He asked kindly. “We’re always eating breakfast around now.”

Wanda tipped her head in confusion and looked for the clock on the wall which read 7:48. Her face colored with astonishment. “Oh, I didn’t realize it was so late.” Steve furrowed his eyebrows. It wasn’t like Wanda to be so unaware of her environment. Usually, she was hypervigilant about it and didn’t miss a thing. As he examined her more carefully, the captain took in the abnormally dark circles beneath her eyes and the weary slouch of her shoulders. She was exhausted. “I’m sorry for intruding, I’ll just grab something and go.”

“You’re not intruding, Wanda,” Sam cut in purposefully, only just beating out about three other members of the team who opened their mouths to say the same thing. “You’re always welcome to eat with us.”

Wanda floundered at the resounding concurrence of the room. Stark pulled out the chair beside Steve and nodded to it. The young woman sat in it unsurely. Steve smiled at her and she replied in kind, though it was tinged with unsureness. As Wanda looked down at the child in his lap, however, the smile grew softer. After all, the young witch could deal with her anxiety on her own time. There was no way she’d risk seeming unkind to Madeleine somehow.

Madeleine, for her part, was utterly perplexed by the nervousness of the witch. Wanda looked scared and it bothered Madeleine because she knew being scared felt really bad. She thought back to the night before and that time in the hospital when she had been scared. Wanda and her daddy, when she had been afraid, had held her and made her feel safe. Why wasn’t anyone holding Wanda?

Steve jerked in shock when Madeleine wriggled in his grip. For a moment, he thought she was tipping out of his lap and he nearly grabbed her to keep her from falling, but he stopped himself when he saw her climbing over to a bewildered Wanda. 

The young woman sputtered in surprise at the action, but allowed Madeleine to transfer to her. The little girl’s thin arms wrapped around her neck and it took Wanda a moment to realize she was _hugging_ her. She unfroze and instinctually twined her arms around the child to return the embrace. Though the young woman was confused by Madeleine’s sudden affection, her heart ached as the child hugged her. Wanda felt tears sting at the back of her eyes. It had been so long since she had been hugged. Not since Pietro had she let anyone hold her and the feeling was one she dearly missed. Unconsciously, her arms tightened a little bit and she pulled Madeleine tighter.

The girl didn’t mind, however, and simply laid her head against Wanda’s shoulder, content. She could tell that the woman felt better and it was enough to settle her worried little mind.

The rest of the team appraised the commotion with raised eyebrows. They all knew how skittish Madeleine was. Actually, they all knew how skittish _Wanda_ was as well. In the three months that she had been at the compound, she had avoided every member of the team to the best of her abilities with the exception, perhaps, of Clint. It seemed that this morning was full of surprises.

“Well looks like Madeleine already has her favorites. Unfair, the rest of us didn’t even get a chance to compete,” Clint complained, but he couldn’t smother the affectionate gleam in his eyes. He thought of Wanda like one of his kids, his kids treated her like a sister and Laura adored the quiet witch as well. So he knew better than most how much she struggled. Seeing her at ease, even if just for a moment, could bring a smile to his lips.

Beside the pair, Steve, though a little taken aback by his daughter’s sudden actions, had seen the almost imperceptible curve of Wanda’s lips in a smile and found himself smiling as well. Even if it was small, he could tell it was genuine, and those smiles were tough to come by when it came to the pretty witch. A touch of pride emerged as he looked at his daughter. Somehow, she had known that Wanda was upset and she had taken it upon herself to fix it.

He studied to two of them. Wanda’s relaxed posture as she held his daughter and the natural ease each of them seemed to have adapted. The picture before him struck Steve as beautiful and the man felt his heart quicken by a few beats. The scene was soft and loving, his daughter in Wanda’s arms, and for a second he was lost to a dream of wrapping his arms around the both of them and holding them in an embrace. 

Tony dropped his fork on the floor and the sharp noise broke Steve of his reverie. He shook his he, bewildered by his mind’s train of thought. What the hell was that? 

He looked back at Wanda. She was beautiful, he knew that. Privately, the captain has always thought Wanda was one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her ethereal presence was enchanting and his artist’s hands itched to draw her elegant features. But since he’d woken up, Steve had set aside all thoughts of finding a girl to love for the rest of his life, had assumed that he wouldn’t ever find anyone. And really, he had thought it was better that way.

And yet, over the past month, Steve had found himself continually drawn to the quiet witch that had joined their ranks. He was pulled in by her understated strength of mind and the fierceness of her loyalty. Her quiet grace and gentle, rare smiles that tugged at his heart. Most of all, though, Steve was struck by the soft kindness of her heart. She tried to hide it, but warmth shone through her too brightly for anyone to mistake her for uncaring, even as much as she avoided them. One would think what with the life she led in Sokovia, the devastation she had faced, that Wanda might have been hardened by her grim reality; but, it seemed that through all of it, Wanda had not let go, had held fast to her good heart and relentless love.

And the sight of her holding his daughter, the daughter he loved more than life itself even after only a few days...it just, it _fit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read, comment, review! I love reading your thoughts and suggestions so much and they always give me a huge boost of motivation <3


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